


Tipping the Hourglass

by Mooncatx



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Blackwatch, Blackwatch Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other, Overwatch Agent Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix, Pre-Talon Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2019-10-27 09:22:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 52,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17764115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mooncatx/pseuds/Mooncatx
Summary: Widowmaker wakes up 8 years in the past, before her kidnapping and the murder of Gerard LaCroix.  Unknown events have given her a second chance, what will she do with it?  Already the past begins to be remade as small changes in events lead to greater ones, and Amelie is faced both with new possibilities, and perils.





	1. Chapter 1

**TIPPING THE HOURGLASS**

**By Mooncatx the Bliss Crimson**

 

Widowmaker woke to the warmth of a male body tangled with her own.  True to her training, she lay limp and languid, eyes slitting open the most minute amount, to take assessment of her situation.  She felt… flushed. Heat seemed to pervade every inch of her body. Not quite a fever, more of a… why was her heart beating so rapidly?  Despite herself she squirmed in distress, only to have the sleepy embrace of the man she lay with gather her closer, half snored, half whispered endearments dropping into her loose tumble of hair.  Eyes now wide open, Widowmaker cringed and eased herself away from Gerard LaCroix. 

**_Non…!_ **

Like a waking nightmare, the horror she felt was like a wash of sickness.  Oh… She  **_felt_ ** it.  She  **FELT** !  Was this some dream?  A nightmare? She dragged a hand over her nude flesh.  She shuddered at the sensual input. Oh! She was… sensitive…  Biting her lower lip, she felt the sharpness of her teeth. Sliding away from Gerard’s sleeping grasp, Widowmaker left the bed and stood, reorienting herself.  Scent… the musk of sex and cologne mixed with perfume. Sound… the rush of early morning bustle of Paris, familiar as the beat of her own heart. Sight, the dim of pre-dawn in what appeared to be a small apartment bedroom.  The bathroom was down the hall, just as she remembered. 

On silent feet she padded to the sanctuary of the small apartment bathroom and locked the door behind her.  Slender fingers flicked on the light switch, and she stared at the small mirror above the sink. Tousled black hair, pale skin like a porcelain doll, eye a light amber brown, like whiskey in a glass, held to the light…

**_Dieu…_ **

What had been their home AI when they’d just gotten married? 

“Selene, tell me today’s date…  _  Quel jour sommes-nous _ ?” 

She asked quietly, voice hardly more than a whisper.  Closing her eyes as the crisp, light feminine voice answered.

“ **_Aujourd'hui, nous sommes le vendredi, vingt-trois décembre, deux mille soixante-sept_ ** ”

“December 23... 2067” Widowmaker repeated in disbelief, she gripped the sink in front of her to stay steady.  

A little more than eight years in the past.   Not long before she had been taken by Talon. Gerard was still…  **_alive_ ** .  And…  so was she.

Looking at her reflection, Widowmaker saw the confusion and dismay bleed away as she accepted that no matter how incredible her situation was, it simply was.  Why or how she could not guess, but she was not a victim to simply let events roll over her. She would be cautious. She would learn what she could, and act accordingly.

Standing up straight, she gave herself a lingering examination.  No blue skin. No tattoos. Nothing to keep her from blending into the normal throngs of humanity if she so desired.  It wasn’t so bad. As long as this change hadn’t crippled her more valuable skills and talents, then it might actually be... beneficial.  

A hesitant smile quirked her lips.  Oh…! Surprise wiped it away for a moment, as she stared at herself in the mirror.  Her hand raised to her lips. Slowly, her lips curved once more. 

Yes.  Perhaps there was something here and now worth smiling about.  A game changer. A new start. At the very least, it would be worth the ride.  Touching her lips with her fingertips, Widowmaker kissed them gently, then pressed the fingertips to her mirror self.

“Hello, Amelie.  It’s been awhile.”

  
...to be continued

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Tipping the Hourglass 02

 

Amelie Lacroix reviewed her schedule.  Fortunately her past self documented her days in a planner, helpfully provided by Selene.  The holoscreen hovered in front of her eyes, text in luminous light blue. Lunch and Introductions with Overwatch top officers, Commander Jack Morrison, Gabriel Reyes, Ana Amari…  If she had a weapon, it would be the perfect opportunity to cut the head off the snake, so to speak. One tiny explosion. Boom! And no more Overwatch. Of course it would be suicide.  While she didn't fear death, Amelie wasn't in a hurry to taste it either.

The ideal would be to snipe them from a distance. Three quick shots!  Pop, pop, pop! Morrison first. Amari second. Third would be… she frowned.  Gabriel Reyes was Talon council… in the future. Gerard would be the third shot.  She would be a widow all over again. Amelie sighed. Unlikely she would be able to access a suitable weapon by lunch.  She swiped the screen and watched the holoscreen fade out. 

So eating lunch with the enemy it was then.  There would be other opportunities. Gerard was about to be promoted to Command of the Rome Watchpoint.  All brand spanking new. Talons first serious attempt to squash the focused anti-Talon task force that Gerard would head would come soon, and fail.  Romes Watchpoint would fall. Gerard would make a full recovery, thanks to Ziegler’s efforts… hmm… bullet number four? Ahhhhhh but with no Ziegler, how would Gabriel become Reaper?  Or Moira O’Deorain be able to utilize the healing nanotechnology for Talon’s use? Delimmas, delimmas…

Things had been so uncomplicated the first time around.  Now, all things were tangled. A messy web of broken, sticky, spider's silk.  She couldn't even contact current Talon leadership for orders or support. She remembered the horror of her original conditioning…   **_Non_ ** !  This time would be different.  She was not going to relive that cauchemar again.  She'd sooner join Overwatch… she… She could  _ join Overwatch _ ?

Chills swept through Amelie.  Technically… she was a free woman.  Talon had no ties to her, and she owed them… what?  She felt sick. Rushing to the toilet, Amelie retched.  Bitter liquid rushed up her throat, burning as she expelled it in convulsive waves.  Oh  **_dieu_ ** … mother of gods…

She… owed… Talon…  _ she owed them _ … ?!

Crying she felt herself sick up again.  No… she wasnot this weak! She  **_was_ ** Talon!  She was… she was…  **_not Talon_ ** ?  If she was not Talon, who was she?  

Dry heaving now, she stumbled to the bath and shower and pulled the plastic curtain closed.  There were manual levers to start a cascade of water over her. She nearly screamed at the first sluice of cold water, but bit it back with the taste of bile and blood mixing in her mouth.  She’d forgotten… quickly she dialed the knobs to get the right mix of hot and cold, the water now lukewarm was bearable, and she let it fill her mouth, spitting out the bitterness now tainted with a copper after taste.  Rinsing and spitting and letting the water wash away everything, even thought, for long minutes. 

A sudden pounding on the door made her start, and nearly slip on the tub’s wet floor.   

“Amelie, **_cherie_** , are you all right?”  I thought I heard you being sick! Why is the door locked?”

Gerard’s worried voice only made Amelie feel more queasy.  Maybe she should kill him now. Kill him now and Talon would have no reason to take her.  To break her. Broken… she was broken… non not broken… yet. If she killed Gerard… if she killed him early… she wouldn't have to be broken.  But… not too early. She didn't want to go to prison. Talon would need to take the blame. It was their fault. She couldn't rush things. Haste led to carelessness, carelessness led to mistakes, mistakes led to disaster…  She didn't need to hurry. It was some time yet. She would do this right. No one had to die today.

“I'm fine!” she called out, masking her feelings of wretchedness, “I just wanted some privacy… for woman things.”

It was a weak excuse, but Gerard was unsuspecting, and didn't question Amelie's reply.

“Don't use up the hot water!  You know I need to look my best today!”

“I’ll be out in a moment!” She spoke through the soaking cascade, turning up the heat, and letting the hot water relax her tense muscles.  The heat felt good. Too good. She shut off the shower and wrapped herself in a towel. She went to the bathroom door and passed Gerard, shying away when he tried to embrace her. “I’m soaked!  Go! Take your shower. We don’t want to let your Overwatch friends down.”

“It’s early!  We could fool around in the shower.” Gerard teased, admiring his wife’s wet beauty.  She looked good in nothing but a small swath of terry cloth and water droplets. 

“Another time maybe.” Amelie smiled, teeth bright and white, the picture of cheer, but the emotion failing to shine in her eyes.

 

To Be Continued.


	3. Chapter 3

Tipping the Hourglass 03

 

Amelie ached.  She felt sore from the inside out.  It was distracting. She was used to shutting out pain from the very earliest of days, ballet was as much suffering as it was beauty.  But the numbness that her Talon conditioning and biological tampering had given her had spoiled her in a way. She was more used to this sort of discomfort when receiving battle damage, not… simply being.  Amelie grimaced as she realized there was much she would have to re-acclimate to, relearn, and retrain. Even her skill as a sniper, what Talon taken as an entertaining talent for marksmanship and honed to a razor’s edge.  

What they’d mostly done was given her focus, and a need to aim at higher prey than deer and grouse, she would need to practice endlessly again to regain the muscle memory that had been effortless without thought due to years of constant use.  No doubt now there were small imperfections to her skill that would need smoothing out. She was not afraid of the hard work ahead, but annoyed? Yes, she was very annoyed by it. Yet it was, what it was. She needed access to guns, ammo, and a shooting range.  Fortunately Overwatch had what she needed, she just had to get to it

She would do whatever she had to.  Even… make nice.

Another shudder quivered through her.  She was unsure of how she would react to Ana Amari.  There was a time she had idolized the Overwatch sniper.  As a girl, even though ballet was her main focus… She had developed a love for shooting with her father.  The Omnic Crisis overwhelmed the world when she was the smallest of children, and all had seemed lost. Then Overwatch rose to the challenge.  Strong fighters and strangely colorful warriors, and among their elite, one woman, stern and beautiful and skilled with a rifle. Ana Amari. And during Overwatch’s Golden Age as world heroes and protectors, she had made 13 year old Amelie Guillard’s heart catch in her throat.  She danced even more vividly when she imagined that perhaps Ana Amari would be in the audience, perhaps enchanted by the beautiful and graceful young dancer. Childish fantasy. The longings of a lonely but determined young girl.

How did the saying go?  One should never meet one’s heroes?  She remembered the crushing sense of betrayal the first time she met Ana Amari in the flesh.  Gerard’s friend and superior. Oh she’d been… pleasant. Artificially so. Amelie could remember her initial confusion over her husband’s co-worker’s distant politeness.  The thinly veiled disapproval everytime those dark brown eyes fell upon her. The slight pursing of thin yet expressive lips. She’d been returning to the gathering they had been all attending after having left to take a call from work.  The primary dancer of the troupe had an accident and she was to take the lead in the production Carmen! Oh she’d been electrified! A danseur might wait a lifetime for such an opportunity! She’d eagerly rushed back…

They’d secluded themselves in a corner of the hall, away from prying eyes.  Their voices had been low, but so intense she had no trouble hearing every word.

“... practically a child!  Really Gerard, it’s almost obscene.  She’s Fareeha’s age, for pity’s sake.  Not to mention she’s so… so… SOFT! That is not a girl who can handle the life we lead, LaCroix, you had no business encumbering yourself like this!  Your Amelie is a liability! Mark my words, because I am only telling you this unpleasant truth out of friendship… “

“Friendship?!  Or something else?” Gerard’s growled whisper had sent ice through Amelie’s heart, she didn’t need to see to know he’d be gripping the other woman’s arms with his strong hands, pulling her close.  She knew that whispered growl from countless lovemaking encounters, _dieu… dieu…_  If not now, then not long ago, they were **_lovers_ **…

She’d fled.  Unable to listen to more, unwilling to meet the other woman’s dark eye’d, demeaning gaze any more that night.  Gerard had been furious with her. She’d pleaded illness, and apologized for abandoning him and his co-workers mid event.   _Merde_ …  She couldn’t even remember what the event was.  She did not have a perfect memory, for which she was grateful.  During the brief years of her marriage, she’d let time dull edges and dim the memories that still haunted her.  Yet, if being sweet to Ana Amari was required, she would be so sweet it would make a diabetic sicken and die.

Thinking of imperfect memories.  Amelie bit her lip as she took another look at her past self’s planner.  She had only a vague recollection of this day in fact. She remembered that Gerard received official notice of his taking over the Rome facility today, but really not much else.  It had been important because of how elated Gerard was over his promotion. His star was on the rise. Amelie herself had been happy for Gerard, but not so happy for herself. To be with her husband, to support him the way he deserved…  She’d given up her position as lead solo danseur for her company. It had broken her heart. Gerard had been so pleased though, and he’d joked… _better to go out on a high note_ he’d laughed as he had embraced her.

By this day, she’d already given her notice.  She no longer had to begin her day with the hours long regime of exercise and dance practice.  No wonder she ached. It was if her body reflected the pain of her soul. Dancing had been her soul.  Until Gerard. Her Overwatch Hero with the dashing smile and the sophistication that came with experience.  She’d been putty in his hands. The hands she just could not bear on her body right now. By the time he exited the bathing room, she’d dressed and already had her coat on.  It was cold in Paris in December, no matter what year it was.

To be continued


	4. Chapter 4

Tipping the Hourglass 04

  


They were hours early.  From what she remembered, the first time they had skirted being late by moments.  Gerard had originally coaxed Amelie into the shower, and they’d made frantic, messy, very sodden love.  She nearly was sick thinking about it. But this time they were at the the Paris facility where they would meet with the Overwatch high command, and Gerard would be officially named the commander of the Rome Watchpoint.  He’d known unofficially he was short listed for the position for the past year, his intelligence reports on Talon after intense and indepth research had edged him past all others to official award. How very proud Gerard LaCroix was of achieving this level of rank in just his early forties.  He would be the youngest of the Overwatch Watchpoint command, and he dreamed of going farther. He was an Icarus with the wind beneath his wings, reaching for the golden warmth of the sun.

There was no official Watchpoint in Paris, but Overwatch did have a place for their agents to rest while in the city.  A refurbished hotel that had been abandoned during the reign of destruction of the early Omnic Crisis. Overwatch coffers had seen to it’s rebuilding to support offices, living quarters, work out facilities and other fundamental infrastructures, not the least was the fine eating establishment that would put other Parisian restaurants to shame.  With the Omnic Crisis over, and Overwatch’s world wide reputation as a peacekeeping force at it’s apex, they could attract the best in every facet of it’s workforce, including their in house chef. Gerard having been living in Paris was a frequent visitor.

Amelie herself had not had reason to come here, other than events where Gerard needed her on his arm.  Holiday parties, company events, fundraisers, the hotel’s lavish ballroom did not want for nights of gaily dressed throngs gathered to bring in support for the international organization.  She had made a worthy trophy bride for a former hero of France. An Étoile after her performance of _Carmen_ and a première danseuse in Paris was no small thing.  Gerard was as proud of his ballerina wife as any of his own accolades, and she’d smiled prettily at every event, bringing fuel to his social flame.  His swift rise in rank was as much social intrigue and clandestine politics as hero’s medals and hard dedicated work, and Gerard had excelled in all of it.  

It was quiet now of course.  The early hour was hushed inside the building that was close enough to the river Seine that the upper floors had truly breathtaking views of the water, the bridges, and city of lights.  She had told Gerard she wanted a proper tour of the facility. She’d been there before for champagne and chit chat, but never really had gotten to see anything important, like the in house firing range that was in the below ground levels.  Oh, if only she could get access to a proper sniper’s rifle… She bit her lower lip, Amelie had weapons in storage, in Annecy. Hunting rifles, her father had left her his collection after his passing, and she kept them at the small family cabin they’d used in the hunting season.  Too far away to be of use to her now, but at least she knew they were in impeccable condition. Nothing close to her Widow’s Kiss of course. **_Dieu_ **… she missed her weapon.

The sound proofing kept the use of the firing range quiet to anyone who was not in the range itself.  The sound of guns once they entered was like staccato music to her ears. The scent of gunpowder, better than any perfume.  She wanted to fill her lungs with it like smoke, and exhale it softly with her every breath. She saw a nearly familiar silhouette putting away his shotguns in a weapon’s locker.  A knitted hat over his head instead of a cowled hood, corded muscle playing beneath an indigo dark shirt that was soft, supple, and clung to him almost indecently. Soft looking pants stretched over very muscular… everything.    

Even with the differences, her heart almost stopped.  Gabriel Reyes. She’d forgotten she’d known his face. Seen occasionally across the room during some Overwatch event, lost amid a crowd of equally unknown persons.  In Talon, he’d been intimidating, larger than life. The Reaper, an ominous death dealer, in pitch black body armor and skull plate mask. Here, he was still a significant presence, but…  Watching him now, so _human_ … a deep warmth filled her, settling low in her loins, and Amelie’s eyes widened in surprise.  She’d never had such a reaction to Reaper like this before. It alarmed her. Gerard mistook the look in her eyes as fear.

“ **_N’ayez pas peur_ **, my dear.” he gently whispered in her ear, “That is only our Blackwatch Commander.  He may look scary, but he’s actually a pussycat! And in any case, I am here with you.”

She nearly laughed.  

“I’m only impressed, Gerard.” she replied, smiling.  "He is like… an action hero? I expect him to leap into adventure!  Like that old American cartoon, that… _G.I. Joe_?  Very much larger than life. Your Overwatch commander, Jack Morrison? He is the same way, yes?”

“LaCroix!” Reyes had finished locking away his weapons and had approached them while they’d been speaking, “What are you doing here so early?  I wasn’t expecting you to come in till much later. This is your wife? The ballerina you speak of whenever you get the chance?”

His smile was… warm.  Teeth white in his dark tanned face, he looked… kind.  It unsettled her deeply.

“I have my team with me!  I thought you wouldn’t get time to meet them, since they are about to leave on a mission, but what’s that thing you say?  Seize the moment?” Gabriel nodded over to a small group of people coming in from the range.

A cowboy.  A cyborg. A **_witch_ **.

Here was a face Amelie truly had not been expecting to see anytime soon.  Red hair and pale skin, and mismatched eyes that seared with intelligence.  Moira O’Deorain. The echo of her voice played through Amelie’s mind. _How are you feeling, LaCroix?_ A deep shudder ran through her as that gaze like a laser, focused on her.  

 

To be continued.

  



	5. Chapter 5

Tipping the Hourglass 05

 

This was… years before schedule.  Even after Amelie had originally been kidnapped by Talon, she hadn’t come under Moira’s sphere of influence till more than a year after killing Gerard and being conditioned mentally to be a loyal Talon operative.  It was her unquestionable loyalty and expendable nature that had brought her into the pool of candidates for Moira’s experimentation, and her physical assets that had brought her to Moira’s personal attention. Moira had a weakness for pretty things, broken things, things she could fiddle with.  

Doctor O’Deorain had taken her time to fiddle with Amelie LaCroix.  She’d fiddled with her new toy in _all manner_ of ways.  But in the end the good doctor had lost her interest as other projects and toys filled her days, leaving Talon’s Widowmaker both colder emotionally and… well… blue.  Literally. Despite rumor that she had been made physically colder and that was why she had taken on an azure complexion, Amelie had always suspected it was because Moira was a fan of old science fiction and fantasy.  After finding the film Avatar in Moira’s guilty pleasures stash, Amelie was just grateful not to have ended up with a tail and pointy ears.

And here she was, Talon’s future, arcane geneticist.  The woman who for the right person, could spin their genetic structure like candy floss, till dna and rna melted and reformed giving them powers only found in fiction.  Shadow stepping, life drain, healing, and who knew what could come next. She wanted to improve humanity, her only real fault was her willingness to wade through endless oceans of blood on her journey.  Amelie in the future would be stronger, faster, with an unerring sense of accuracy. Partly to relentless training. But what gave her an almost super human edge was no doubt Moira’s hands on contribution to the Widowmaker.  

Now, in this place and time, Amelie knew she was not at the same level as she was after Moira’s work.  It galled her to admit it, but training alone hadn’t made her Widowmaker. It was this woman. This beautiful, brilliant, utterly depraved woman known as Moira O’Deorain.  What could it mean that they were meeting now, years before they had originally? Now it wasn’t simply her body that ached. Her heart which now beat so much faster than she was used to, it ached in ways Amelie didn’t want to think about.  

“Madame LaCroix, are you well?  You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.” Moira asked, with curious concern, the Irish lilt of her voice more vivid in this more youthful version.  

Eight plus years had put a fine edge on Moira’s poise.  She’d become more jaded, and more casually cruel. But now, there was an energy to her that Amelie found almost unnerving.  

“I’ve been feeling a little shocky, lately” Amelie admitted, letting the truth out like a lure, “I should probably seek out a doctor.  But I confess, I have a bit of resistance to getting medical care. Ever since my mother passed, I’ve had a horror of medical facilities.  If only I could find someone qualified, willing to see to me in more… private circumstance.”

She lowered her lashes, then peered up through them as she let her voice grow wistful.  Moira was striking in her height. Being at least 6 foot five, she towered over Amelie even with heels.  She’d forgotten how being near Moira had made her feel… dainty. At 5 and nine inches, Amelie was used to being one of the taller dancers in her troupe, among the females.  Seeing the smug cat’s curl to Moira’s lips, Amelie knew she’d piqued the Doctor’s interest.

“As it happens, I am a doctor.” Moira straightened her back, seeming to grow even more grand, “We won’t have to catch our train to Bern for hours yet.  For our stay, each of us has a personal suite here, I would be happy to have you in mine. It would be very private, and totally not like a hospital.”

“Down girl!  That’s a spoken for lady.” the cowboy snorted, lips twisted in a smirk.  His voice was meant for just the redhead, but everyone heard.

“McCree… “ the growl from Gabriel Reyes wiped the grin off of Jesse McCree’s face.  

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Moira’s voice was frosty, but the look she gave Amelie LaCroix was… warm.

Gerard LaCroix was simply staring at his wife.  He feared for her health, recognizing she’d been acting standoffish since the start of the day.  

“ _Ma belle, chérie,_ if you are not feeling well, of course you should have Doctor O’Deorain examine you!  Why didn’t you say anything earlier? I knew I heard you being sick this morning, my darling.”

“I didn’t want to shadow your big day, _mon cœur.”_ Amelie replied, “You know how I don’t like to make a fuss.  But if the doctor doesn’t mind… _Oui_ I would like to have her look me over.”

Gerard couldn’t agree fast enough.  He wanted his wife to be at her best when they met at lunch with Commander Morrison and Strike Leader Ana Amari.

“Commander Reyes?” Moira looked over at Gabriel questioningly.

“Alright, go ahead Doctor O’Deorain, let’s make sure Gerard’s wife has the best medical care outside of the Medical Facilities.” Reyes concurred, concern equally evident on his face.  He trusted O’Deorain not to be indiscreet.

 

To be continued

  



	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here it gets a little erotic.

Tipping the Hourglass 6

  
  
  


Moira wasn’t sure what to make of Gerard LaCroix’s wife.  She was more vivid in person than in the holopictures that were available online.  Of course Moira had done her research on the up and coming Blackwatch Commander, the one who would be the new head of an anti-Talon operations.  This included researching his wife, the former danseuse who’d left her own career to support her husband in his climb of rank and power in Overwatch.  She admitted, she had thought to find a typical, insipid waifu so infatuated with her spouse that she’d sacrificed her own talents and dreams for his. 

This woman was clearly not infatuated with Gerard LaCroix.  If anything, Moira had the ego to think the dark haired beauty had been  _ flirting _ with… well, with herself!  However, much as her Irish blood had heated when she’d clearly seen Amelie LaCroix in the flesh, Moira wasn’t one to delude herself that a prima ballerina, a creature of almost ethereal grace, was going to fall madly in lust at first sight for a red haired step-child such as herself.  Moira O’Deorain had made her peace long ago that she was too sharp, too intense, for most people’s taste. Oh she’d had her admirers through the years, but nothing like the exotic dark swan that was Amelie LaCroix. It was a laughable thought.

As she shut the door to her suite, Moira turned to find Amelie LaCroix dropping the last of her clothes to the floor.  She stood like some Grecian statue, a Venus in the nude. Alabaster skin, lips like freshly bloomed rose petals and hair as dark as ebony.  The modest curls at the mound of her sex were silky and just enough to shadow that font of delight. She was in a word, exquisite. Moira’s mouth went dry and she found it hard to swallow.  What…?

“Thank you for volunteering to examine me, Docteur O’Deorain.” Amelie looked down as if shy, a faint blush to her high cheek bones, “Would you like me on the bed?”

“The bed…?” Moira repeated the last words of her guest without really thinking.  For a moment, her brilliant mind was still with shock. Oh. This was not real. Was it?  Her eyes followed Amelie as the French woman sank onto the freshly made king bed with a languid grace.  Gods but she looked good there. 

“ _ Docteur _ ?  Is something wrong?” Amelie looked up at Moira with lashes so dark and long it was a sin, and bit the rosy plumpness of her lower lip for a moment, “Did you want me some other way?”

“No… no… “ Moira stuttered, finding her voice and shaking off her trance.  Obviously examinations were… different in France. 

She went and got her medical bag, the one her grandfather had gifted her with when she’d graduated from medical school, youngest in her class, before moving into more extreme studies in genetics.  Her hands trembled as she gathered her instruments. At the time, they had been the most cutting edge of their types, and even more than a decade later, were still relevant. Quality stood the test of time.  Even though she hadn’t become the old fashioned family doctor her grandfather had hoped she’d be for their quaint local village, she still kept her hand in. It had stood her well for when Gabriel Reyes had offered her the position of his personal Blackwatch team’s combat medic.  Do her time in the field with Reyes, and she’d have access to the facilities and resources of Overwatch for her personal research. She couldn’t say no to that. 

So, now she was going to examine a high ranking Blackwatch agent’s wife.  Yes. Examine her. Medically. Like any other examination. Of a drop dead gorgeous French woman who was totally naked on her bed.  

Slowly, but with care, Moira examined Amelie LaCroix.  When she needed to touch the other woman she did so lightly, clinically.  She checked the ballerina’s breathing. She took the measure of Amelie’s pulse.  Her instruments measured blood pressure and blood sugar, even the amount of iron in her blood.  There was nothing wrong with her patient.

“You’ve had nothing to eat today?” She asked, frowning slightly, “You may be feeling light headed because of that.  I have some fruit juice from my breakfast earlier. Let’s wet your whistle with some apple juice. It may help.”

“Oui,  _ Docteur _ ,” Amelie’s voice was agreeable, as Moira reached for the juice containers on the small table near the bed, “Let us get wet together.”

Moira dropped the juice containers into the deep plush of the floors carpeting as she felt Amelie’s arms slide comfortably around her from behind.

“ _ Nous avons le temps, non _ ?”

Turning to protest… She was sure she meant to protest, Moira’s answer was taken by a rose petal soft kiss and a soft moan of desire.

 

***

 

Gabriel Reyes frowned as his connecting suite to Moira’s allowed him to hear what was happening in his new team medic’s room.  They were not quiet. The mix of Gaelic Irish and French was expressed in ecstatic cries of passion. Thank whatever dark angels looked after him that Gerard had gone off with Jesse and Genji, the three hitting it off as he’d hoped.  Even though Gabriel was the nominal head of Blackwatch, Gerard was near equal in authority when it came to Blackwatch operations dealing with Talon, and Gabriel wanted things to move smoothly when it came to his team and their field missions, which would deal with Talon a great amount of the time.  He hadn’t liked the look in Gerard’s wife’s whiskey colored eyes when they’d fallen on Moira. His danger sense had flared like cold fire. He liked Gerard. But it was obvious the man was besotted with a woman who was pure poison. Hell, she was seducing Blackwatch agents right in front of him. Jesse had the right of it, even if he’d scolded the wrong party.  

Gabriel wasn’t sure he could blame Moira.  He bit his lip as he heard her crying out on the other side of their shared wall, Gaelic Irish that was half croon, half pleading moans.  Christ, what was that wife of LaCroix’s doing to her? He hated to admit it, but when he first met her eyes in the firing range, he’d felt something hit low in his gut as well.  Swearing under his breath he went to his suite’s master bath and set the shower to a cold pulsing rinse. If someone was going to tell Gerard his wife was screwing around on him, it wasn’t going to be Mama Reye’s little boy.  Oh hell no! He’d just had to stay strong and be the man friend shoulder to lean on when Gerard got wise. Just like Jack had been for him when his own world had turned inside out. 

Gabriel stripped and got under the cold spray.  He had been needing to wash and change for the informal, Officers meal they were having later anyway.  Informal meant they didn’t have to be in uniform, but it didn’t mean casual. Letting the cold water beat down on his heated flesh, Gabriel cleared his mind of what was happening only a room away.  Well he tried. Even under the icy needle like spray, he heard the moaning wails of Moira’s name wreathed in erotic French. He knew, without needing to see, that Amelie LaCroix was losing herself under Moira’s lips and fingers, under tongue and touch.  The dark haired witch was calling for her god in helpless screams… He gripped himself under the cold water, and damned Amelie LaCroix… damned Moira… He came, in hard, almost painful jerks, damning himself most of all. 

 

***

 

Amelie felt raw.  Her senses swirling, insides still spasming in the aftermath of a chain of orgasms that left her weak, wet, and vulnerable.  Moira slid close and held her skin to skin, kissing softly at the tender pulse of Amelie’s throat. The red haired woman’s body heat like warm silk on Amelie’s skin, and for just a moment or two, she wanted to simply soak in that feeling.  Moira’s scent was rich and musky, and Amelie wanted to suckle the woman like candy and let that scent dissolve on her tongue like spiced sugar. This… this was so much better than it had been in those other times. The other times had been so much colder, and predatory.  Moira had not been nearly so giving, so… loving. Amelie had not felt even a fraction of the pleasure that they had just shared. She had these… feelings. Warm, melty, intoxicating feelings flowing through her like cream and honey. No… she couldn’t let herself drown in this whirlpool of sentiment.  It had been sex. A means to an end. Nothing more. She’d done it to bind Moira to her, to subvert her. That was all. 

Moira’s hell kitten mouth didn’t stop kissing.  She only moved down, to continue to kiss at the turgid peaks of Amelie’s sensitive breasts, teeth catching tender pink nipples and gently biting them till the French woman cried out, her hands gripping in Moira’s short red hair as the Irish woman’s mouth continued to ravage her.  Long, elegant fingers slid into the heated wetness that was Amelie’s sex and plied her with ruthless strokes that had her clamping tight and sobbing with the sensation. Hard and deep, harder, deeper… Amelie begged, pleaded, screamed…

Moira’s mouth caught Amelie’s in a kiss that swallowed the sounds of anguish and pleasure and the Irish woman fed another finger into the tightness that was Amelie and  _ curled  _ at just the right place…

Amelie forgot what she was screaming and became the silence that shattered in the light…

Moira drank down the silent scream…  

 

To be continued.

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amelie drops a bombshell. Figuratively speaking.

Tipping the Hourglass 07

 

She was nearly late for the lunch.  Sliding into her seat besides Gerard, Amelie flashed him a satisfied, relaxed smile.

“You look so much better, _ma cherie amour._ Did Doctor O’Deorain give you something?” Gerard spoke softly as he took her hand in his and kissed her fingers.

“ _Oui_ , she helped me release some tension.  I feel like a new woman.” Amelie let her voice lower into an almost purring register, and leaned over to kiss Gerard, slowly, sensously.  She pulled away as the sound of cleared throats and coughs reminded her of the others gathered with them.

Her gaze slid languidly to Ana Amari’s, noting the tightness around the Overwatch agent’s pressed lips.  Still attractive, but the marks of age were beginning to creep into the iron grey touches to her sable dark hair, and the faint lines of laughter and frowns at her mouth and eyes.  Older, but the strength hadn’t waned, nor her charisma that drew they eye to her and proclaimed her an alpha female still in her fighting prime. Part of Amelie hated the Egyptian woman for it.  Another part, lower and less judgemental, fluttered warm and ached. Damn the woman. Amelie wanted to put a new bullet through the gimlet eye that was aimed at her, dark and piercing as any sniper shot.

“Still like newlyweds, eh?” Ana’s voice held a condescending, hoarse burr, it should have been grating, but her liquid accent coated it in echoes of desert nights and exotic spices.  

Even without a gun, Ana Amari was dangerous with nothing more than that smug mouth of hers, and that exotic tongue.  Amelie felt the conflict twist her insides, the need to shoot the arrogance off Ana’s face, or to kiss her into submission.  Something of Amelie’s feeling must have bled through her eyes, as Ana paused, and tilted her head, puzzled, as if sensing either the hostility or the heat.

“With Gerard, every night is like a wedding night.” Amelie let the suggestiveness lilt in her voice as she answered Strike Commander Amari.

Gerard was blushing, but his smile was broad and happy.  His gorgeous wife was clearly in love and hungry for him and willing to let the entire world know.  How could that not make him the luckiest man on the planet? He turned to look at Jack Morrison and Gabriel Reyes.  Jack was smiling, amused at the display. Gabriel looked like he’d bitten something sour. Ah! Jealousy. He knew that Commander Reyes had recently parted with the woman who’d given him a child.  It must still hurt. She’d gotten full custody. With the danger level of his work, Reyes hadn’t had his heart in staking his claim. The job was demanding, and the mortality rate on marriages and long term relationships was high.  With the Black Watch Commander about to turn 50, it must be a double blow.

“I can only hope you will have happiness, as I have with my Amelie.” Gerard spoke with his heart.

Reye’s winced and grabbed another glass of amber colored liquid.  It was early to be drinking, but the weak beer that had been omnic waiter had delivered hardly seemed to qualify as more than colored water.  He would order something harder, but he could already see the disapproval in Jack and Ana’s eyes. Well damn them both. They didn’t know that Gerard was being betrayed by his wife.  His happiness was built on deception as thin as a glaze of ice beneath the feet. One wrong step… Reyes drained his glass and with a sharp look of defiance at Ana’s frown, ordered another.

 

***

 

The food was excellent.  The mood was a little awkward as Reyes went through several more glasses of beer, his two friends and fellow officers Jack and Ana watching him with growing concern.  After excusing himself to hit the facilities, Jack went after him as well, leaving Gerard and Amelie with Ana Amari. The official notification of Gerard’s new posting had been announced, and congratulations had gone around.  

“So, Amelie.  I know you plan to follow Gerard to Rome, but there will be several weeks in Bern for the processing of staff and getting up to speed on the brand new facilities being built in Rome.  Many meetings and long hours for our Golden Boy here.” Ana gave a practiced, public relations smile, “What do you plan to do with your time? After a demanding career, I think you may feel a little lost and at loose ends for the next several months.”

Before, Amelie had faltered under Ana’s little digs and comments.  She’d been less socially experienced to deal with Ana's, as an Overwatch senior officer, verbal traps.  Though accomplished as a dancer, she had been so much younger than the Overwatch agent, and vulnerable, and even with her happiness for Gerard, had in truth been feeling exactly as Ana had stated.  But that was a different past. Now Amelie knew exactly what she needed to do, and her plan could not start fast enough for her.

“ _Non_ , I feel I will have a great deal to do as well, as Gerard’s wife.” Amelie smiled as she underlined her position with the woman who was so against her marriage. “He will be high profile to the heads of the Talon organization.  Undoubted they will probe for weaknesses.”

“Do not worry, Amelie.” Gerard put his arm around his wife and patted her cheek, “I will be careful.  They will find nothing they can use against me!”

The wine on his breath made Amelie wince.  Gerard had tried to make things less awkward with Gabriel by drinking as well.  Not as many glasses, but enough to put him into just a little bit of tipsy mode.  

“Gerard, I am a weakness.” Amelie rested her cheek against his, and spoke slowly, “To hurt you, Talon would only need to harm your loved ones.  They are terrorists, that is what they do. Any atrocity to instill fear and feelings of helplessness in their enemy. It would be foolish to think they would not target me as your wife.”

“That… is unfortunately true.”Ana commented, watching Amelie with narrowed eyes.  There was something… different about the girl. She had been such an open, emotional and pliable young woman when they’d last met.  Easy prey. The predator in Ana’s heart had recognized how tender and tempting a target the ballerina had been. But now…  it was laughable to even think it… The predator in her recognized… _danger_?  Nothing she knew of could make the too pretty, black haired dancer any kind of threat, but there was a edge to Amelie LaCroix now that wasn’t there before.  Ana didn’t like it.

“So I want to make myself less vulnerable.  I want to train as an Overwatch agent. I want to be able to protect myself when they come for me.”  Amelie’s statement caught both Gerard an Ana off guard. Gerard who had just taken a swallow of his new glass of wine, sprayed it out across the table.  Fortunately they had finished most of their lunch before Gabriel and Jack had left for the lavatories. Coughing Gerard reached for a cloth napkin and tried to regain his composure.  Ana was staring shocked at Amelie who was now sipping her own glass of water, eyeing the older woman coolly.

When Jack and Gabriel returned to the table, they stared confused by Gerard’s distress and Ana’s grim look.  

 

To be continued


	8. Chapter 8

Tipping the Hourglass 08

 

Jack Morrison was between a rock and a hard place.  On the one hand, Gerard’s wife had a point. With LaCroix the new official head of anti-Talon operations, Amelie LaCroix would have a nice, bright bullseye painted on her once Talon caught on.  Her light brown eyes stared unrelenting into the Overwatch Commander’s summer blue sky gaze.

Gerard however was nearly having kittens at the thought of his delicate and pretty wife taking the same training courses that introductory Overwatch agents took to be field ready.  Ana and Gabriel were no help either as both were glaring at Amelie LaCroix like she was a Talon agent herself. Jack didn’t rightly understand what had crawled up and bit his fellow Overwatch agents in the ass, but neither of them seemed to want Amelie in Overwatch either.

“Jack you can’t seriously be considering this!” Ana’s voice was sharp as the steak knife still in her hand.  

Commander Morrison eyed the blade with justified caution before asking, “Ana, it’s not like she’s asking to be an actual field agent.  She just wants the training to better protect herself.”

“Then let her join a self defense class at the local community center!  Agent training isn’t a joke…!”

“And neither am I.” Amelie cut off Ana, voice soft but just as intense, “I’m not a bored housewife trying to kill time, or learn how to buy a few moments against a common mugger.  Or is that the level of self defense you would be satisfied with for your own daughter?” 

Ana almost growled at the French woman, but remained silent.  Fareeha was a sore point with her. She was justifiably proud of her daughter’s fighting prowess, even if she objected to the career in combat her daughter had chosen.

“She’d be a disruption to regular training classes!  Look at her, Jack! A prima ballerina in one of our grunt squads?  Would she sleep in the barracks with the rest of them, and get up before dawn to run PT each morning?  She’s a Watchpoint Commander’s wife, you don’t think that would screw up the team morale?” Gabriel’s voice was harsh, as he pointed to the woman, “It wouldn’t work and you know it!”

“You know… you’re right.” Jack agreed, coming to a decision.

“Why can’t you see rea…” Gabriel sputtered to a stop, and nearly choked, “What did you just say?!”

“I said you’re right, Gabe.  Amelie LaCroix wouldn’t fit into our regular training squads.  She’s too high profile and she’s not going to be an actual Overwatch agent.  So since she and Gerard are going to be in Bern for the next few months while he gets up to speed for taking over Rome Watchpoint, and since you will be in Bern overseeing your new Blackwatch team and getting your new members O’Deorain and Shimada integrated with McCree and yourself, we can kill two birds with one stone.  I am tasking you, Commander Reyes, with personally training Amelie LaCroix with self defense on a private, one on one basis.” 

“What!?” Reyes looked like Jack had hit him between the eyes with a two by four.

“Thank you Commander Reyes!” Gerard’s enthusiastic agreement blindsided Gabriel, “I know I can trust Amelie in your capable hands!  I would not ordinarily ask for special treatment due to my position, but with a man of your level of skill and experience, I know my wife would be in the best hands.  To be truthful, knowing she’s not going to be in some sort of plebian boot camp… I cannot tell you how much of a relief that would be to me.”

“Looks like your new mission is to be Babysitter, Reyes.” Ana chuckled darkly, as Gabriel glared back at his fellow Overwatch officer.

“I would find personal training by Gabriel Reyes to be the utmost honor.” Amelie agreed, looking at him, her expression serious, “And I think you will find me a very willing and able student, Commander.  However hard you grind me, I think you will find I’m able to give as good as I get.”

Gabriel almost choked at her words.  He was not going to think about grinding anything with Amelie LaCroix.  Getting back up from his chair, he walked away.

“Don’t worry, he’ll warm up to the idea.” Jack Morrison smiled at the nonplussed faces around the table.

 

***

 

Amelie shuddered as Gerard grunted his climax, and came inside her.  She hadn’t had to do much but lay there while he had kissed her and humped energetically.  He’d had enough wine that he didn’t notice her lack of reciprocation of passion. It was enough that he could touch her, taste her, feel her tightness around him as he came.  Mumbling his love, Gerard rolled to his side of the bed and was soon slumbering deeply. 

She lay there a while, listening to him breath.  She could feel the warmth of his seed seeping out of her.  Nothing. She’d felt nothing for Gerard as he’d made love to her.  It hadn’t been awful. Because of her morning with Moira, Amelie had been in a fairly good mood through the rest of the day.  With Commander Morrison’s agreement, she’d have access to the areas of the Bern Watchpoint she’d need to retrain herself to the peerless killer she was meant to be.  She’d not been surprised at Ana’s opposition, but… for some reason Gabriel’s resistance had…  _ hurt _ ?

Of course, this Gabriel wasn’t Reaper, yet.  He didn’t know her as a fellow Talon operative, one of his equals in the field.  Wrapped in her thoughts, and nothing else, Amelie slid out of bed and padded silently to the bathroom again.   She realized that she’d become comfortable with Reaper on missions. She’d become used to him. Now, some perverse part of her  _ missed _ him.  How strange.  He’d always been abrasive, contemptuous… competent.  A consummate killer. She’d never doubted he’d do his part.  

Turning on the shower before stepping in the tub, she adjusted the water to warm as she could stand it temperature.  She stepped into the spray and gasped, her body tensing a moment, before relaxing into the beating heat of the unrelenting downpour.  She soaped and rinsed Gerard off her skin, before leaning against the shower wall and sliding down. What was wrong with her? Why did she feel so… empty?  The man laying in her bed had once made her so happy. She was sure of those memories. They’d laughed together with such joy. Made love with what she’d once thought of as great passion.  Now the sound of his voice made her feel… unclean. 

It wasn’t going to work.  Staying with him. As soon as she had what she needed from Overwatch, she’d have to end the marriage to Gerard LaCroix.  If not with a bullet, than another way. She felt restless now, and discontent. The wonderful glow that Moira’s lovemaking had left her with was now just a fond memory.  Slowly, under the heated water, Amelie parted her legs and washed between them till she felt clean of Gerard’s seed. She slid fingers gently around her clit and thought of Moira, until she was slick inside, and her sex tightened with want.  She thought of Ana, and whimpered as pleasure pulsed dark and dangerous inside and she slide questing fingers inside herself. Ana’s dark eyes so contemptuous… Ana’s dark weathered hands, strong and punishing. Amelie’s hips bucked as she slid another finger inside and pressed deeper, fucking herself to the memory of Ana’s anger, and Gabe’s… 

Amelie bit back the moan that tried to escape her as she imagined Gabriel’s hard, strong hands on her.  Gabriel's mouth on her. Gabriel buried deep inside her…! 

She came in quieted whimpers in the shower, her fingers finishing what Gerard had not.  Her mind mixing memory and fantasy with the strokes of her fingertips. Oh…  _ dieu… dieu… _

 

To be continued


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As close to Widowtracer as you will see me write. Heh, heh, heh...

Tipping the Hourglass 09

 

Amelie frowned.  Apparently getting Overwatch training meant going through Overwatch protocol, which meant getting an  _ official  _ Overwatch physical.  Gerard had gone ahead to set up their living arrangements in Bern.  In the old days, after the turn of the millenia, the commute from Bern to Zurich was anywhere from an hour to an hour and a half by train.  With the rebuilding after the Omnic Crisis, the new trains made the commute less than a half hour. The Swiss Watchpoint had taken advantage of the faster and easier mobility to set up the more posh living quarters of officers in Bern, while offices and training facilities, and the barracks for the rank and file were in Zurich.  So it was for Zurich she was bound for first, and it’s official Overwatch Medical center, before rejoining Gerard in Bern. 

She’d stayed behind for the last week to close up their rented apartment in Paris, glad for the excuse to be alone for a while.  As she remembered, this quaint residence had only been meant as a temporary living quarters for Gerard while he researched, and finally presented his report on Talon to Overwatch Command, initially.  Amelie herself had shared a house with other dancers while she’d been working professionally in Paris, until she married Gerard. Somehow their temporary living space had not given way to larger, more permanent quarters.  It had always been in the back of their minds that they would have to move from Paris if Gerard were to move up in rank. 

Still, she felt an ache in her heart to drop off the apartment key, and follow the last of their belongings in departure of the City of Lights.  No more quiet evenings in  _ Cabaret Luna  _ …  No, that had been the  _ other life _ .  That  _ cabaret _ , she was not even sure it was open yet in this past.  Her memories of the previous future, they mixed oddly with her new present.  She had to be more careful. It would be easier out of Paris, she hoped. Switzerland, then Rome, would be  _ new _ for both herself and Gerard.  At least with his now swamped schedule, she would not have to spend much time with him physically if she did not want to.  She remembered how the lack of time with her husband had distressed the former Amelie. She’d actually cried in the bed pillows the many nights she’d slept alone while he spent long hours in the Overwatch offices.  There were no such tears now.

She sighed.  She didn’t want an Overwatch medical officer poking and prodding her.  Well… unless it was like her last exam with Moira. Now a feral smile quirked her lips.  Moira would be in Bern with Gabriel’s Blackwatch team. She would no doubt run into the red haired geneticist there and perhaps in the training facilities in Zurich.  That would most certainly make her time in Switzerland much more…  _ amusant _ .  But for now she had to, as they say, bite the bullet.  Having arrived at the Overwatch Medical facility, Amelie made her way to the reception desk, and was nearly bowled over by a slender young woman who appeared from nowhere!

“SorryluvIdidn’tmeantorunintoyou!” the speaker’s words bled together in a fast forward spill of sound.

_ Non!   _ It couldn’t be!

“I’m Tracer!  Um, I mean Lena!  Lena Oxton! Tracer’s just my nickname, yah?” the young woman babbled at a slightly slower rate, still much to hyper for Amelie’s taste.

_ Merde. _

What were the odds of running into this annoying little girl  _ now _ ?  It was far, far too early to have to deal with…  Wait. Where was the nuisance’s glowy thing? That harness she always wore?

“Please don’t be offended, Miss!  I didn’t mean to crash into you like that.  I’m in just trying to catch up with myself a bit!  I wasn’t looking where I was going, that’s for sure!” Lena continued as if she had no need to breath to gush out her words.

“I… am fine.” Amelie finally spoke.  

Well, if she looked like a girl in about eight years, Lena Oxton looked like a child now.  All lanky limbs and that infuriating grin. Her breasts barely seemed to have come in, and she was just so small.  She looked all of twelve, if that much. A little smile crooked Amelie’s lips. There was an opportunity here to get a little of her own back, if she was feeling petty.   Yes. Yes she was feeling petty. It was that sort of day. 

“Little one, do your parents know you are racing around a Medical facility like this?  Surely they can’t have left you alone like this. That’s practically child abuse! Here, take my hand and we’ll go find them.”

Amelie held out her hand imperiously, and Tracer took it without thinking.  The younger woman’s face was, in a word, gobsmacked. Her little cupids bow lips caught in an O she looked a little like a surprised goldfish.

“Uh… I’m… Miss!  I’m not a child!” the British girl stammered.

Amelie smiled kindly and stroked Tracer’s cheek. 

“I know you feel grown up, darling.  I’m sure you are very mature for your age.  But I would be irresponsible if I let you run about loose like this.  Let’s go to the desk together. We’ll have them page your parent or guardian, and I’ll wait with you.  Would you like that?”

“No!  I mean, yes?  I mean, I’m an adult woman!  Really!” 

Lena wasn’t sure what was happening.  The French woman, (so obviously FRENCH!!!) was clearly misunderstanding the situation!  She was only here for yet another physical. There seemed to be no end to them as she was prepping for the upcoming Slipstream mission.  Surely she didn’t look THAT young!

Despite her protesting thoughts, Lena had yet to reclaim her hand from the beautiful stranger.  Hella beautiful! She wouldn’t mind snogging with this bird, not by half. But she had a wedding ring on her hand.  Wasn’t that just the luck? Even if she were free, probably didn’t go for girls like Lena Oxton. Lost in her woolgathering, Lena yipped in surprise as the Omnic receptionist announced.

“Will the parent or guardian of one Lena Oxton please come to the front desk?  Paging the parent or guardian of Lena Oxton, your little girl is at the front desk.”

It echoed through out the medical complex on repeat, as Lena turned a shade of hot pink that was nearly neon.  She all but glowed with embarassment.

“Lena?” 

A familiar voice, rich like cream and very Swiss called out concerned.  Grimacing Lena turned to face a gorgeous, blue eyed blonde doctor who was hurrying towards the front desk.  Even dressed in just a white medical jacket over blue scrubs, Angela Ziegler was clearly a Doctor with a capital D.  She almost glowed with authority, not to mention having a madonna like aura of benevolence.

“Are you responsible for this child?” Amelie’s voice snapped like a whip.  Her face stern, the edges of her sharp enough to draw blood.

“This… child?” Angela faltered, blue eyes wide as she took in the woman before her.  This familiar looking woman. This person she was scheduled to examine today.

“I’m not a child!  I’m not!” Lena protested, “I tried to tell her Angela!  She simply does not believe I’m an adult!”

“Are you old enough for me to pay to have sex with?” Amelie asked, eyebrow arched as she tapped the toe of her expensive heels.

“I… uh… what?” Lena wasn’t sure she heard correctly.

Angela winced, and explained. 

“In Switzerland, you must be 18 years of age for legal prostitution or pornography.  Umm… No. Lena will be 18 in a matter of days, really, but at this moment she is not legal for sex work.”

“So, an older child, but still, a child.” Amelie’s voice held a husky note of true surprise.  She hadn’t really known just how young Tracer was. This far back in the past, she was truly a girl only on the edge of womanhood.

“An emancipated minor.  Lena has special dispensation due to her work as a pilot...” Angela tried to explain, but Amelie cut her off.

“Is still a  _ minor!   _ Merde!  I have half a mind to bend you over my knee and spank you till your ass glows!” Amelie spoke softly but her words still brought both Angela and Lena up short, “But I suppose such discipline would be lost on you.”

Lena blushed so hard she nearly was glowing.  Oh gosh! Her mind went there. Her cheeks went even more red.   

“I think I’ll just go now.” Lena’s voice was very high and faint.  

Angela sighed and face palmed.  Lena escaped while the escaping was good.  

Amelie watched the scruffy haired girl disappear out of the reception area, then laughed.

Angela Ziegler’s head came up with a snap, her celestial blue eyes focused on Amelie like lasers.

“You did that on purpose!” 

Voice purring like a satisfied cat, the dark haired woman smiled at the Swiss Doctor, “Yes.  Yes I did. Did you have something to say about it  _ Docteur _ Ziegler?  Or shall we continue on to my physical?”

Angela was at a loss.  She knew little about Amelie LaCroix, other than she had been a dancer, and was Gerard LaCroix’s wife.  She hadn’t known what to expect of a woman who had asked for Overwatch agent training, but it certain wasn’t… well whatever it was that she was now facing.  The amused look in those pale brown eyes was… predatory? Angela shivered, but squared her shoulders. She had work to do and she’d do it, but she wasn’t sure if she liked Amelie LaCroix or not.  This woman unsettled her, but if she passed the examination, she’d be Gabriel Reyes’ problem, not hers.

 

To be continued.

  
  
  



	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first rule of Fight Club...

Tipping the Hourglass 10

 

Amelie stretched.  She’d gotten to the training room hours earlier than scheduled just so she could do her stretches and get her body warmed and limber.  She was surprised at how easy it was to fall into her old ballet exercise routines. Apparently her body muscle memory was still good when it came to the routines she’d worked at for years with the Paris ballet troupe.  Her body finally felt like it should to her, pliable, relaxed, ready for the long and often punishing sets of exercises that led to the airy grace that the audience experienced during performances. A beautiful, butterfly wing’s beat of time, supported by countless hours of sweat and suffering.

She’d seen the observation deck above.  This is where higher ups could anonymously watch the agents being trained and tested.  Observe. Monitor. Judge. She had become slowly used to NOT being under constant observation in the past days.  The pure extent of her personal freedom in Paris during the winter holidays had been shocking to her after enforced seclusion due to both her future self’s unusual appearance, her notoriety, and Talon’s close grip on her activity.  She’d gone out in daylight, and walked the streets simply to feel the cold air on her face, letting sights, sounds, even the scent of the city delight or disgust her in turn. She’d sought out little bakeries and had the light and airy macaroons she’d enjoyed as a child.  She’d come to prize the sensory input, so raw, so exhilarating, so  _ alive. _  She’d  _ die _ before losing it again.

With Overwatch’s naive aid, she had a fighting chance of never having to lose it in this new life.  Talon had focused her training on her sharp shooting skills, but it had also given her a rounded, balanced base of fighting hand to hand and various other weapons.  Nowhere near the levels of defeating an Overwatch field agent, but with the hope it was enough to help her escape an upfront, direct confrontation, to buy a moment or two to grapple away or just plain run.  

Widowmaker knew she was, what her Talon team mates referred to as  _ squishy _ .  It was why she preferred long distances between her and her targets.  But she was not going to be afforded that luxury when Talon’s agents came for her.  No convenient sniper rifle. No helpful poison mines. No forewarning other than she knew it would happen sometime after Blackwatch’s disastrous mission in Venice and the impulsive execution of Antonio Bartalotti.  

Her memories of when and how she was taken by Talon… mercifully blurred by drugs, mental conditioning, and time.  What she could recall still had her sometimes waking in the night shaking, sickness cold in her veins and a dull ache in her stomach.  Nightmares… memories… physical and mental pain… She pushed it away. It hadn’t happened yet. If the gods or powers that be that had brought her into the past had any compassion, it never would.

“You ready to suffer, LaCroix?” Gabriel’s voice rolled out in a growl, his entire being a towering block of intimidation.

Looking over at her new self defense teacher, Amelie broke out into a sunny smile.  Something warm and strangely delightful infusing her flesh and blood with excitement… with expectation.  

“In ballet, if you do not feel pain, it means you’re dead.  Make me suffer my dark angel, make me know I’m alive!”

Gabriel Reyes scowled.  This was  _ not  _ the response he wanted.  He knew he looked bad ass.  He’d spent long moments in front of the full length mirror in his quarters confirming it.  Clad head to toe in black, scarred and weathered and built like a thug, and this woman was looking at him like he was something good to eat?!  He was going to have to teach Amelie LaCroix that what she wanted came with a price, and that price was grueling work and a whole lot of beat down.  

“Okay princess, you asked for it.”  Gabriel strode towards her like thunderclouds rolling in before a storm, “I need to know what I got to work with.  I’m gonna attack you, and I want you to do everything you can to fend me off. Go all out. Bite, scratch, claw, kick, punch, scream bloody murder!  The room is soundproof, so no one outside is going to hear and come to your aid. I need to know what instincts and inhibitions you have, and what we will need to either break or overcome.  You got me?” 

He lunged and grappled her, intent on instilling the fear of a real attack on Gerard’s delicate, little snowflake.  Or he would if she’d stayed in place instead of skittering away like a spider on those too long, lean legs of hers. Roaring he followed, and she somehow eluded him again.  Slippery as a greased goose! He chased her, finally backing her into a corner and body slammed her against the wall. Amelie became a hellcat, going for his eyes, screaming French phrases he actually knew because of how filthy they were, sharp elbows and knees striking and actually being felt through the under armour he was wearing!

Gabriel captured her delicate wrists with savage effort and slammed her hands above her head with one of his fists, while his other hand wrapped tight and no doubt painful in the hair above the back of her neck.  Suddenly she went limp, eyes filled with tears she looked into his gaze and stared in utter helplessness. He became aware of how hard his body was pressed against hers. She whimpered and he felt the sound go down, right to his… releasing her suddenly, he pushed away from her like she was scalding hot!

She kept watching, absolutely still.  Like a wild hare the split second before bolting.  Gabriel knew he needed to apologize, but words couldn't convey the mix of feelings he felt. What the hell had just happened?  He could feel the uncomfortable confinement of his cock in his protective gear. His head was reviewing the actions that led to his ferocious need to pin Amelie Lacroix down and thrust into her hard and raw till she screamed in unrelenting orgasm.  His body was simply eager to follow through. His ears focused on the sound of her ragged breathing and it didn't help. If anything just the sound of her panting breath aggravated his need. This was so not good.

When Amelie moved, it was not the speedy flight of prey.  It was the slow, undulating stalk of an apex predator. It was Reyes who stood statue still now, as she came closer.  She stopped, no more than a centimeter of space between them. Her mouth traveled up to the underside of his jaw, and kissed.  He hadn’t shaved in order to look more coarse, more low life and unappealing. It didn’t work out the way he wanted.

“Don’t.” his protest was meant to be a sharp bark, came out almost in a whisper.

“Stop me.” she murmured, rose hued lips lifted and parted, pearly white teeth catching at his lower lip, biting gently, the moist heat of her breath tickling his mouth.

Her hands slid over his broad chest, exploring the muscle of him before going loosely around his waist.  Her body pressed to his, the softness of her molding to his hard male frame.

Gabriel was going to pusher her away… after… after…  His arms came around her, crushing strength making her moan, voice needy as she cried his name.  His mouth silenced hers in a hard, deep, passionate kiss. He knew he shouldn’t. Gerard’s wife… fuck… 

Gabriel didn’t do other men’s wives.  He didn’t do his friends’ women. He pushed her down to the floor, hands ripping at her loose workout clothes.  The pants slid down with almost laughable ease, and the panties ripped with just one hard yank. Gabriel didn’t even bother trying to get his pant’s down.  He simply untucked himself through the convenience flap and was inside her with a single hard thrust. 

She was already wet for him.  Wet, and tight, so tight. He could hear the little cries she made as she bit onto his shoulder, trying to muffle herself.  He decided to make her scream instead, and began a hard rapid thrust, drilling her to the floor as she cried unfathomable words in French.  He thought he could recognize the words harder, and deeper, and even they were not, he buried himself as hard and as deep as his muscular enhancements allowed.  Her legs wrapped around him, she could only hang on as he hammered her, destroyed her, fucked her.

Amelie keened, living in the moment as Reyes split her, filled her, moved so deep in her it made her see the heart of a star in her mind’s eye.  Every hard thrust stole her reason. She didn’t need to think, she felt. She felt him in her. Gabriel Reyes, in her, so hard… so deep… so much deeper!  Hot… The spill of him inside her! So much... ! Still going… Harder… so deep it was piercing her soul… More… more… more… so much! Spilling inside… so much!  Amelie screamed as Gabriel kept going, kept going, kept going… no… yes… no…  _ nooo _ …  **_yesssss_ ** ...

 

To be continued                                                                              

 


	11. Chapter 11

Tipping the Hourglass 11

 

Moira stared down at the hot messy tangle of bodies in front of her frowning.  She had a strange sense of deja vu, but pushed it aside. She was just glad she’d come to the training room much earlier than she planned, having been kicked out of the research lab by Angela Ziegler for reasons unfathomable.  She’d only been doing a few practice runs with her bunnies. Not even drastic tests. She really couldn’t understand Doctor Ziegler’s problem, but since she was chief of the Medical division, and thus in charge of the labs, when she said GO!  Moira went. She was too new to Overwatch, to Blackwatch, to try and throw her weight around. But because she was here so very early, she could at least win brownie points with Reyes by doing something about… well, whatever this was about.

 "Are you both… _finished_?”

“Moira… “ Amelie’s caress of her name sent a flush through the Irish Doctor.  

Reaching out a hand, the red haired woman pulled up Amelie Lacroix, noting how the dark haired woman stood unsteadily, bared from the waist down, the evidence of what (or was that _who_ ) she’d been doing plain to see.  Meanwhile Reyes was grumbling expletives under his breath as he rolled over on his back, tucking himself back into his pants.  Moira mostly ignored her Blackwatch Commander and scooped up Amelie’s discarded apparel and let the other woman lean on her as they made slow but steady progress to the private women’s locker room  adjacent the training room. She didn’t have to look back to know Reyes could make it to the men’s section without help. At least, she didn’t think he’d need help. He was a SEP for goodness sake!

Getting Amelie out of the rest of her clothes and under a shower was shockingly easy.  The other woman was incredibly pliant, and had an insufferable, goofy smile on her face.  Giving it only a moment’s thought, Moira stripped down and got under the hot water spray with the French woman, grabbing her own shampoo and body wash supplies, she began lathering up Amelie. 

“Your so nice, Moira.” Amelie whispered pressing closer to the red haired woman, “So much nicer to me this time around.” she lay her cheek onto Moira’s shoulder, kissing the sensitive skin of the Doctor’s neck.

If she didn’t know better, Moira would have thought Amelie was intoxicated.  But she’d discreetly checked for that when they’d reached the temporary sanctuary of the women’s showers.  The only thing in Amelie’s system were the natural endorphins released by vigorous and obviously pleasurable sex.  If nothing else, that Gabriel Reyes had been able to put Amelie into this state, impressed Moira O’Deorain. She did wonder what her Commander had been thinking to do the wife of the Blackwatch’s new Director of Anti-Talon Operations, in the middle of their training area.  Anyone could have walked in. Hell, she had walked in. With the two of them utterly incapacitated, it was a wonder she was the one and only person who’d caught them.

Good thing she wasn’t a jealous soul.  It had been disappointing to find she didn’t have exclusive call on Amelie Lacroix’s affections.  She hadn’t been expecting too much, knowing Amelie was married, but…

“Moira… “ Amelie was rubbing herself suggestively against the woman washing her, “ _Mon amoureuse”_

“Not now darling.  We have to get you freshened up.  Reyes scheduled you to spar with our entire Blackwatch team today, and I doubt he meant for all of us to find you both… well… in flagrante.”

Moira pushed the protesting French woman away, not without a little regret.

“Gabriel is so BIG!” Amelie gurgled, eyes large and shining even under the shower spray, still in a state of afterglow, “So much!  Enough to share...“

“Put a pin on that thought.” Moira stopped her with a finger to the other woman’s lips, trying not to let the image of what the other woman suggested float through her mind.  No she definitely did not need the thoughts of frolicking with her Commander muddying her thoughts. She hadn’t experimented with men since college, and had found that her true nature was a lover of women, and women only.  But, that didn’t mean Moira couldn’t be generous, and share Amelie between them. That idea had a rather aesthetic appeal…

“I missed you.”

Moira stilled as the other woman pressed close again, arms around her.

Amelie’s embrace wasn’t amorous now, just _very_ affectionate.  Gods the woman was so affectionate after sex. 

“I’ve been wanting to see you again.” 

And there it was.  That little lost sound in Amelie Lacroix’s voice.  Moira remembered it from before, mixed in the babble of sweet nothings after their encounter in Paris.  It had only been just a trace, she had thought maybe she’d imagined it.

“It’s alright darling, I’m here now.” Moira lifted Amelie’s chin and kissed her softly.  

 

***

 

Gabriel’s cursing was an unending litany as he stripped, washed, and put on a fresh set of sweats from his locker.  No longer the intimidating all in black, but the soft silver grey sweats he normally used when he thought he’d be alone.  But at least they didn’t smell like sex. Like Amelie. He balled up his previous clothes and buried them in the bottom of his carry all, and buried that in the bottom of his locker.  He sniffed his hands and caught the faintest trace of that damnable woman’s scent…

Down!  He ordered himself as his lower half, as part of him stirred at just that tiny whiff.  Damn! That he could even think about going again after emptying his balls… what? Three time?  Four? Fuck it all to hell!!! It was NOT going to happen again. It couldn’t happen again. She was Gerard’s woman and she was _Off Limits_ , capital _O_ capital _L_.  He must have temporarily lost his goddamn mind… 

He stared at his face in his locker door mirror.  His grim visage stared back. He looked angry. Good.  He didn’t looked like a man who’d just gotten his ashes hauled.  He glanced at his chrono display. About time the others would be showing up.  Moira had come in early, but he knew she could keep her mouth shut. Lately, he’d been coming to trust the Irish Doctor more and more.  The lady knew how to keep secrets, that’s for sure. Too bad Jesse had taken an instant dislike to her. The two were like dogs and cats, instinctual enemies.  Genji was thankfully neutral. He kept his private thoughts private, and was a consummate professional. Good. Reyes could push off some of Amelie’s training on the ninja.  He somehow thought it might suit her. She moved like a goddamn shadow already, she’d skipped around like a water bug on the surface of a puddle earlier, before he finally caught her. 

Caught her…

Growling, Reyes pushed  up his sleeve and bit his own forearm, hard enough to leave a mark.  There, he’d use the mark and the stinging ache to remind himself that Amelie Lacroix was literally, not to be fucked with.  He was going to do his duty and make sure she was trained, and that was all it was going to be.

Striding back to the Training Room Gabriel’s face was set with his patented “You’re all gonna DIE” face.

 

***

 

“Looks like the boss is in a mood” Jesse spoke out the side of his mouth to Genji. 

“Looks like.” Genji echoed, but his own gaze was focused on the women exiting the locker area, hair damp, faces shiny and clean. 

Amelie Lacroix was a true beauty.  Even washed of all make up, she was worth a second glance, and a third.  Moira too was beautiful in her own way, the sharp clean marks of a feral forest creature.  Genji thought he might like to draw them both. Separately. Together. They certainly seemed to have connected well.  There was a subtle affection in their body language. He wondered about it.

“All right, losers!” Gabriel’s voice barked out like a drill sergeant's, “We’re wasting daylight!  I want you all prepping for the next half hour! Then we’ll pair off and do some sparring! Genji, I want you to put Lacroix through her paces!  I want an evaluation of what level of combat readiness she’s at now. Then we’re gonna drag her up to the next level, kicking and screaming if we have to!”

Genji was watching the woman’s face while Commander Reyes was shouting.  He would have expected trepidation, maybe grim determination. It troubled him that she looked at Gabriel Reyes with what seemed to be… hunger?  It wasn’t blatant. But he’d gone through so many women in his playboy days to not recognize that shimmer in her whiskey colored eyes. Oh. That was going to make things complicated.  

 

To be continued

  



	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All bets are final.

Tipping the Hourglass 12

 

Angela Zieglar stabbed her salad, frowning at the mix of fresh, baby spinach and pecans, drizzled with a sweet poppyseed dressing.  

“You look unhappy,  _ sabiyya _ .” Ana commented as she sat across from the pretty blonde.  “What’s wrong?”

Troubled blue eyes looked up into the older woman’s concerned gaze.

“I…  Ana, if you knew something about a co-worker…  If you had a friend who was doing something… I…  Dammit.” Angela glared down at her salad and stabbed the greens till they bunched on her fork in a large clump, then jabbed it into her mouth and chewed furiously.

“Hmmm… sounds serious.  You know anything you tell me I will keep close council.  Unless it somehow endangers lives?” Ana sipped the large mug of hot tea she’d brought with her.

“Nooo…  Nothing like that.  It’s… a social issue?  Moral? It’s probably none of my damn business anyways.” Angela poked at the last, lonely looking pecans in her bowl.

“What do you think about Amelie Lacroix?” the blonde Doctor finally asked, pushing her bowl aside.

“What?  Gerard’s wife?  Why?” Ana asked cautiously.  

“I examined her the other day.” Angela spoke slowly.  

“And?” Ana asked, not sure where the conversation was going.

“She’s a perfect physical specimen.” Angela scowled.

“That’s bad?” Ana wasn’t surprised that Amelie was in good health, but Angela’s attitude was curious.

“Healthy.  Strong. Ungodly flexible.  Very fertile.” Angela’s frown deepened.

“Should I be offering Gerard congratulations?” Ana asked, and cocked her head as Angela’s face scrunched up as if she’d bitten something sour.

“No.  God no.” Angela whispered, “Ana…  I went to watch her today.”

“Watch her?  You mean, watch her training with Gabriel?” Ana asked, curious.

“Is that what they call it today?  Training?” 

The bitterness in Angela’s voice didn’t make sense to Ana.  Until it suddenly dawned on her.

“Oh!  Gabriel?!  With Amelie LaCroix?!” Ana’s eyes widened, “Are you sure?  Angela, this… this could be bad in so many ways… Are you SURE?!”

“There was no mistaking what I saw.” Angela’s hands gripped into fists on the table, “I watched for… long enough.  I… I went to the observation deck. They were right in the middle of the training arena. They were… like beasts, rutting in the field.  It was so… raw… primitive… I was so shocked. I didn’t know what to do.”

Angela hung her head down, and continued in a shamed whisper, “I ran to the research labs because they were the closest, most private area I could think of.  Fortunately the only one there was the new doctor, that O’Deorain woman. I kicked her out so fast I think her head spun. I... kicked her out and just… I couldn’t deal with it, Ana.”

“I’ll take care of it.” Ana spoke grimly.  “Don’t think about it again Angela. You did right telling me.  I’ll make sure this dies a quick death, and there will be no more to it.”

“Ana”, Angela’s head came up, her face concerned, “Wrong as we may think this is, do we have the right to interfere?” 

Angela spoke hesitantly, now suddenly afraid of what Strike Commander Amari might do.

“As not only Gabriel’s and Gerard’s friend, but as a senior Overwatch officer,  **_yes_ ** .  Absolutely.” Ana’s voice held no hesitation or doubt, only steel like authority.  

She’d known there was something wrong with Gerard’s wife.  She hadn’t suspected something like this, but she’d known Amelie LaCroix was trouble from the moment she’d first glimpsed her.  It was disappointing to know that Gabriel had fallen for that minx’s wiles, but he was just a man after all. He’d recover. After she pinned his hide to the wall.  He’d recover, and thank her for it.

 

***

 

Ana found them at the firing range.  Jesse was showing Amelie the training rifles and going over gun safety.  Gabriel was already at his normal spot with his pistols, clearly leaving the gun portion of the training to the younger Blackwatch agent.  If she hadn’t just had the talk with Angela, Ana wouldn’t have thought there was anything between Gabriel and the black haired woman. He was studiously ignoring Amelie Lacroix, like she was nothing more than an unwanted chore.  Could Angela be wrong after all? Ana had been so sure. 

The situation could be potentially explosive.  With Gerard’s new, high position in Blackwatch, in relation to Gabriel’s own Blackwatch role, together they could be the force to drive the death blow to Talon.  Amelie LaCroix couldn’t have picked a worst person to fool around with,. Or… had she picked Gabriel, deliberately? Could this possibly be meant to cripple the initiative against the terrorist organization?  When Gerard married the ballerina, Overwatch had done an exhaustive check on her. She’d come up clean in regards to any ties to organizations or persons known to be of interest to Overwatch. A simple girl. A dancer.  Beautiful and innocent. Well, maybe not so innocent. Delilah had been beautiful. Was Amelie a honey trap to snare Gabriel Reyes? To bring down Gerard Lacroix? 

Ana knew she had to consider all possibilities.  Including the one where Amelie Lacroix was no more than she seemed, a beautiful woman… who couldn’t keep her legs together.  If the woman was just a common slut, Gabriel could just be one person that she was cheating on Gerard with. If it were needed to expose Amelie to Gerard for the faithless creature she was, it might not go so bad if Gabriel was not the lover that she was found out with.  Ana would make sure Gabriel cut off his liaison with Amelie, and from now on she would watch that girl like a hawk. 

 

***

 

Amelie watch Ana enter the area like a queen come to her kingdom.  No words were spoken save for a few well met greetings, but the older woman’s authority here could be felt like a warm wind, it ruffled through every living person in the range, a mix of awe, respect, even idolatry.  Ana was the peerless sharp shooter of the entire organization. Something in Amelie seized and cried out, a remembered reverence, cruelly crushed by Ana’s sharp eyes and sharper tongue. She needed to be careful here.  Ana already didn’t like her. The way the dark eyes of the sniper raked over Amelie, she could almost feel them clawing at her, searching for any weakness, wanting to rend her down like a small prey animal. 

Still, when Ana had her personal rifle brought out, Amelie couldn’t help but try and get a better look.  She came towards Ana with a slow. wary gait, Jesse jogged ahead with an almost puppy like enthusiasm. Yes, she remembered now, the Cowboy was close to the older woman.  His affection almost glowed as he stood near Ana, like a son to a mother. She in turn seemed to hold Jesse as someone dear to her. Amelie filed the information away, one more little fact to hold against the future.  Loved ones were a weakness after all.

“A Kinamura.  Overwatch spares no expense.” she murmured, eyes sweeping slowly over the rifle with a longing she could not disguise.

“You recognize the make?” Ana’s voice held a surprised note.  She had not thought the ballerina would know anything about firearms.

“Yes.  I’d been saving for one for years.  After I made Etoile, and my pay grade increased, I was sure I’d finally be able to have one for my own.” Amelie admitted quietly, looking away from the rifle and into the past.  “But they are rather dear, and even a danseuse must be practical. Gerard’s career was our future, and in order to be a success one must dress the part. Hand made suits and Italian shoes, even the cut and style of his hair, those things are not without cost.  A Kinamura would have been a needless extravagance.”

“Would you even know what to do with one if you had it?” Ana’s voice was sharp, somehow angered that Amelie would even imply that Gerard had… what?  A working man had to have the wardrobe for his position. It was… logical. It wasn’t as if he was robbing Amelie, not now that he would be the one supporting them.  For a ballerina, a Kinamura would be  _ wasted _ .  

“I’m not a legend like yourself.” Amelie spoke mildly, but Ana was sure she saw sparks behind the pale brown of the dancer’s eyes.

“Well.  Let’s see if you can hit a mark.” Ana challenged, wanting to see the girl fail miserably, and admit that she wasn’t deserving of such a rare prize as a Kinamura.

“You’d… let me use your rifle?” Amelie spoke slowly, not sure if she was hearing right.  Ana clearly did not think much of her as Gerard’s wife or as a shooter. Why? Why offer Amelie this honor?  She expected failure of course. Amelie knew she shouldn’t show off. It was dangerous. It would draw the wrong kind of attention.  

For just a few moments, it would let her feel… unbroken.  

Ana gritted her teeth.  She needed to get closer to Amelie, and this would be a way to start.  

“Show me what you would do, if you had your own Kinamura.” She feigned encouragement.

“Go on, Amelie!” Jessie put in his two cents, his loud and eager voice drawing the attention of the rest of the Blackwatch team, “Ana never lets other people handle her guns!  Not even me! She must like you a whole lot to even offer.”

Amelie looked at the small crowd gathering, biting her lip.  Then she looked at Ana’s rifle. Ana’s sexy, sexy rifle. She could just hold it for a few moments.  Feel the smooth, firm weight of it in her hands. Look down the telescopic scope and feel the peace she only knew when sighting her prey.  It was too much to risk. It was too much to resist.

In the end it was Gabriel who pushed her over the edge.  With a laugh.

“You’ve lost your mind, Ana.  Putting that gun into that little girl’s hands?  Might as well give a kitten a hand grenade.” the derision in his voice was thick enough to spread like butter.  He pushed between Amelie and Ana shaking his head, “It’s a mean joke, Ana. Let it end here” 

“What will you give me?” Amelie asked quietly, looking at the rifle, reaching out to stroke the edge closest to her.

“What?” Gabriel asked, not sure why Ana was looking at him like a filet knife waiting to start cutting.  He focused on Amelie who was using both hands now to cradle the expensive weapon, her expression half love sick, half mournful.  He didn’t understand what he was seeing.

“What will you give me if I… make half the shots?  Amelie didn’t trust herself to do better without some hard and heavy training.

“Hell, if you make half the shots, I’ll take you out to dinner, anywhere you want.  Make better than that, say 75 percent, and I’ll be your willing slave for a whole day.

“Done.” Amelie couldn’t help the quiver in her voice.

“And what do I get, when you lose?” Gabriel asked, wondering how thin was the ice he was treading on.  With Amelie’s next words he got an idea, too damn thin.

“I’ll be your slave for the day.  You can do whatever you want with me.  To me.” Amelie threw back the Blackwatch Commander’s words back in his face.

“Um… this all is sounding a mite expensive.” Jesse interjected, feeling the leaden weight of the room finally.

“Agreed.” Genji joined in, the inhuman echo of his cyber enhanced vocal cords humming in the air.

“I’ll take that action.” Moira’s voice was amused, she expected that either way, it was win win for her.

“So will I.” Ana’s participation in the round of off the books betting startled Amelie whose eyes widened at the inclusion.  

“Very well then.  Let’s see what Lacroix is made of.” Reyes finished, “All bets are in, let’s get to shooting.”

 

To be continued.

  
  
  



	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ana considers.

Tipping the Hourglass 13

 

It wasn’t a secret that Ana had a cybernetic eye enhancement.  She could see to 6 times the range of a normal human eye. Amelie had only her unenhanced body in this time and place.  But even before Talon had taken her, honed her skills, and given her to O’Deorain to… improve, even then she had her natural instincts as a hunter.  Her father had a love of hunting passed from generations of the Guillard family through the centuries. They had kept the strength of that love in their blood, mother to son, father to daughter.  Amelie Lacroix was still Amelie Guillard in her blood, and her blood sang with joy to express that pure, true note in her heart of hearts. A weapon in her hand, and a target to eliminate.

It wasn’t a live target, but for the moment it would do.   Ana’s rifle felt right in her grasp. It was not the Widow’s Kiss, but she had enough love in her heart for more than one _amourex._ Amelie knew others might find her fickle in her affections, but she knew the truth.  There was no end to love. The only limits were what you allowed. As with her body, Amelie had shed her limits when Talon had shattered her in mind and spirit.  Widowmaker had no limits. Not in her peerless shots, not in the gift of her flesh, not in press of her will to accomplish her goals. Amelie would conquer all obstacles in her path.  Including the target that Overwatch was setting her in the long distance range.

She stood.  In the field, during firefights, she did not often have the luxury of simply lying prone while targets simply stood still, waiting for her to shoot them.  She had been enhanced for mobility and speed, because her mission targets would be often zipping around like over caffeinated fleas, dodging and weaving as they moved volatile payloads through _interesting_ environments.  Here in the practice range she at least didn’t have to worry about anything but simply aiming and hitting her mark.  Her greatest current drawback was the rapid beating of her heart. Talon had slowed her heartbeat. Not out of some nonsense about quelling her emotions, but because a true sniper would take the shot _between_ heart beats.  That sweet spot between breath, and the beat of blood that coursed through the veins.  Inhale. _beat..._  Exhale.   _Beat…_

Target in the telescopic scope, so still… so simple… The gentlest pressure to the trigger, a lover’s gentle kiss.  The sudden kick to the recoil pad. Sliding the bolt and becoming ready for the next shot. Again. Again. Again…

Time stood still for Amelie.  The world, past, future, present… it all fell away.  There was only the trigger release, and the elimination of a target.  The ache of the recoil meant nothing. The moments it took to reload was the inhale, the moments the target shattered to confetti was the exhale, the song each shot made was the only sound in the universe.

It was over all too soon.

The ammo was all expended.  The targets were being counted.  Distance. Accuracy. She didn’t care anymore because Ana was taking the Kinamura away from her, and it was like someone taking a piece of her heart away.

“Amelie?”  the voice that she’d been almost aware of had been repeating her name, and she turned to Moira blinking.  

“ _Ma belle cherie_?” She reached up to caress the taller woman’s pale cheek.

“That was… amazing!” Moira hugged her, and Amelie became aware of the babble of voices around her, and Ana’s somber stare.

“The range was set for three levels of difficulty.  Medium. High… and Extreme.” Ana spoke slowly, still staring a Amelie. “Extreme was set at 2000 meters and included partially concealed targets giving in some cases, no more than two square inches of exposure.”

“How badly did I fail?” Amelie asked, mentally girding herself for the response.

“You didn’t.” Ana’s reply took a moment to sink in.

“Beginner’s luck?” Amelie’s response only brought a harder stare from the older sniper.  

 

***

 

Amelie had fucked up.  She should have made up some excuse, _any excuse_ , not to have shown her shooting skills.  Her future self was used to so much more challenging shots, that even without her enhancements, the Overwatch training range had been ridiculously easy.  Extreme? That was their measure of _extreme_ ?  To be honest, she had gone into the special place in her head the moment the first target had popped up.  The feel of a real gun in her hand had been good. _Too good_.  Now Ana was watching her.  Not with the simple contempt from before, but like a bona fide potential threat.  

What she had done wasn’t normal.  It didn’t fit with the Amelie Lacroix that lived in this time and place.  It was the level of skill and experience of Amelie Lacroix after _years_ of sniping under hazardous conditions, in extreme combat conditions, with living, breathing, moving targets.  Some, as in Tracer’s case, moving through time and space in the blink of an eye. Of course stationary targets just sitting there, even far far away, not moving and not trying to smash her with giant, electric monkey fists, blow her away with pulse rifle munitions, or blast her from the sky with Raptora or Meka battle suits, was going to be… well… easy.  She should have anticipated it. She should have failed. Deliberately. As if she could have dumbed down her skill even if she wanted to.

Amelie had left the gun range, claiming painful fatigue and muscle aches.  Moira, had offered to take her to the medical bay to get some pain medicine and muscle relaxants.  She’d gratefully taken the excuse to lean on the redhead’s shoulder, and leave the range and the rest of the overly energetic Blackwatch team, and Ana’s suspicious stare.  The only bright note of the entire incident was Gabriel’s stunned expression. The last look she had of him was the look on his face as he obviously realized he’d lost his bet.  She managed to hold onto some shred of discretion and had not taken the opportunity to blow him a kiss and make the V sign for victory.

“That certainly took the wind out of that harridan’s sails!” Moira was laughing as they made it to the infirmary.

Amelie winced.  Moira mistook her expression as Amelie being in physical, instead of mental distress.

“Oh, you poor dear!  Let’s get you on the exam bench.”

Amelie let Moira fuss over her.  A hypospray later, and she felt tension in her body she hadn’t realized had been making her cramp, suddenly release.

Oh.  Oh yes _… that did feel better._

Suddenly Amelie’s former good mood returned.  As well as her… um… appetite.

“ _Cherie_ …” she purred softly.

“Hmmmmm?” Moira turned and saw the expression on Amelie’s face.

“Want to play _Docteur_?” Amelie fluttered her eyelashes and gave Moira a now _hungry_ grin.

“Oh?” Moira glanced around, they had the area to themselves, for the moment, “Anyone could come in at any moment.”

“And if they did, what would they find?” Amelie asked, sliding closer to Moira.

The Irish doctor didn’t move away.

“A scandalous eyeful at the very least.” Moira said with a laugh, helping Amelie out of her clothes for the second time in the day.

 

***

 

Angela back out of the med bay, blushing red as a lobster.  Was this what Ana had meant by _taking care_ of the situation?  The Swiss doctor didn’t think it was in anyway, any better!  At least it wasn’t Gabriel, who as a friend, she’d held up to a higher standard of behavior than the notorious Moira O’Deorain.  Everyone in the science community knew O’Deorain had questionable ideas, and even more questionable ethics. It didn’t surprise Angela Ziegler to find O’Deorain in an inappropriate relationship with a married woman, like Amelie Lacroix.   That Lacroix woman… twice! Twice in one day! Did she spend all day having sex in the Watchpoint with whoever she could seduce?! Angela shivered as she heard the low, throaty moaning from the infirmary. French. She knew just enough French to turn a darker shade of red.  Amelie was begging for Moira’s mouth… for her mouth to go _there_ , and her lips and tongue to… to…  There was squeals and screams… She was screaming Moira’s name loud enough for it to echo through the medical bay.  Oh thank god there was no one else around…

Angela turned to escape… and ran right into Ana.

“She… they… “ Angela didn’t have the words to explain, but she didn’t need to as Amelie’s orgasmic bliss echoed plainly for anyone, everyone to hear.

“More, my love, _Tu me plais_ , _ma amoureuse_ .  Fuck me with your mouth…   harder, _oui… oui_ … yes!”

Ana’s face was unreadable.  Angela simply couldn’t deal with it anymore, hands to her cheeks she ran from the medical bay and disappeared from sight.

Ana walked forward slowly and peered around the infirmary entrance.

Well.  That was a sight.  The older sniper continued to watch.  They were at it for a good while. Ana had Athena redirect anyone headed to the infirmary away.  Apparently Amelie Lacroix didn’t care who saw her having sex, or with who. Perhaps she _wanted_ to be found out.  Ana had sensed that Amelie, despite her professed love for her husband, might simply want an excuse to break up with Gerard.  Why, the Egyptian sniper couldn’t begin to guess. But, this was more than just a bored wife having a sordid little affair with her husband’s co-workers.  After seeing Amelie’s almost unreal marksmanship, Ana couldn’t afford to just let Amelie Lacroix just walk away, Gerard or no.

Before, Amelie had been a liability at best, a possible danger at worst.  But now… now she was a possible valuable asset. Also possibly a nymphomaniac.  But a nymphomaniac that could shoot like no one else that Ana had seen since… well since herself.  Mentally Ana apologized to Angela, but she was going to have to get to the bottom of the mystery that was Amelie Lacroix.  Even if she had to enlist Gabriel Reyes to help her. Hell, even if she had to screw the dark haired little minx herself.

 

To be continued.

  
  



	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now things get complicated

Tipping the Hourglass 14

 

“So what do you think?” Gabriel asked, as the cyber ninja put his work out gear into his locker.

“She’s better than I expected.  Her basic skills are actually quite solid.  She’s not strong in fighting close quarters, but her evasion ability is natural, she instinctively seeks to disengage and escape.  She flows like water. If she’d been trained from childhood like myself, she would have made a credible shadow warrior.”

“You mean a  _ ninja _ .” Jesse leaned against the wall, lighting up a cigar, dressed in yet another of his jeans and sarape combos.  

“Hey!   _ McCree _ put that damn cancer stick out!” Gabriel barked the order like a smack in the gut.

Sighing, Jesse snuffed his stogie and popped it into a saver pod.  Tobacco was too hard to get and pricey to just throw away. 

“She ain’t half bad with a pistol either.” the cowboy added his opinion to the mix.  “But that show with Ana’s rifle… That made the small hairs on my neck stand up.”

“Yes, that was a remarkable display.” Genji agreed.

“Beginner’s luck.” Gabriel Reyes growled, frowning.

“Beginner who’s got you for her slave for a day.” Jesse laughed, “What do you think she’ll do with you, boss?”

Gabriel winced.  He didn’t want to think about it.  He didn’t want to think about what he’d already done with her.  But even as he pushed the memory away, his body was already aching to be with her again.  How many ice cold showers was he going to have to take?

“Shouldn’t have made that crack about the kitten and the hand grenade.” Jesse added with a grin.  “Bet you, she’ll make you pay for that one.”

Genji wisely didn’t comment, but his thoughtful, sub vocal hum made Gabriel grit his teeth.  Yeah. He knew better than to bait an unknown quantity about their skills. He remembered how that went over in the old days when it just him, Jack, and Ana.

“Well, I’m glad you both think well of her abilities, because I’m delegating her training to the both of you.  Jesse, you get her for firearms, Genji will train her for unarmed combat. We want to be able to give her a fighting chance if Talon field agents try to either kill or capture her.  One of her best defenses will be to recognise danger and take herself out of it if possible. So, we’ll work on her perception, take her through various kidnapping scenarios, and work on how to use her environment to her advantage.”

“What’s Moira going to do then?  Teach her first aid?” Jesse asked, more to yank Reyes chain than anything else, “Or  _ other _ hands on skills.”

“Never you mind what Moira is going to be doing with Amelie Lacroix.” Gabriel growled, “Just make sure you are professional with Gerard Lacroix’s wife, you get me?”

“Like crystal.” Jesse backed up, hands high, “I ain’t no lowlife that poaches other men’s wives.”

For some reason that only made Gabriel growl even more.

 

***

 

“Will you be coming to the Watchpoint New Year’s Eve party tomorrow?” Moira asked, holding Amelie loosely in her arms.  

Both women were dressed again, but in no hurry to return to the others.  

“Yes.  Gerard needs to glad hand a lot of the Overwatch office heads, and this party will let him network the Switzerland Watchpoint powers that be, before he moves on to Rome.” Amelie sighed, and pressed herself more snugly against the Blackwatch medic. “I’ll be his arm candy.”

“You don’t sound enthused.” Moira observed, dryly.

“I’d rather be doing anything but.” Amelie sighed again, then smiled and drew a finger lightly along Moira’s collar bone, making the other woman shiver with pleasure. “I’d rather be making love with you.”

“Or Gabriel Reyes?” Moira asked, head tilted, curiosity in her mismatched eyes.  

“Gods yes.” Amelie laughed, “I’d rather be riding that strong, hard cock of his, than making small talk with self important bureaucrats.  Wouldn’t you?”

“Hmmm…  I would prefer to watch you ride him dear heart, taking pleasure in your pleasure.  Men don’t directly do much for me, sexually speaking.” Moira admitted.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Amelie murmured, and began teasing kisses at Moira’s throat.  

“If you keep doing that, we’ll never get out of this med bay.” Moira laughed, pulling away, only to be brought back by Amelie’s little whimpers, and the need glistening in her whiskey colored eyes.

Losing herself in a longer, deeper kiss, Moira pressed Amelie back onto the exam bench.  The Blackwatch team could live without them for just a while longer.

 

***

 

Jesse and Genji had already left when Gabriel pulled his bag out of the locker, preparing to call it a day.

“How long have you been fucking Gerard’s wife?” Ana asked casually as she leaned against the wall behind him.

“Dammit, Ana.  You have got to stop coming into the guys’ locker room anytime you feel like it...” Gabriel swore, right before her words sank in, “What?!”

“You heard me.  Now spill. I need to know how bad it is, so we can plan damage control.” Ana’s voice was stern, and unsparing.  

Her’s was the ultimate mother’s authority voice.  The voice any man raised by a strong, no nonsense woman, would obey.  Gabriel Reyes had been raised by such a woman. 

“It’s not like that.  It was just the one time, today.” Gabriel admitted, sinking down onto a bench, not sure his legs were going to keep underneath him, “I…  I don’t even know how it happened. It’s like we were a spark and gasoline. The moment we made physical contact, we exploded. I couldn’t tear her out of her clothes fast enough.  I couldn’t fuck her hard enough, long enough. I think I spent my seed in her at least four or five times. There was no protection… “

His voice trailed off as the implications of the last words hit him.  Since he was 15 his mantra for sex had been “wrap it up” unless you were  _ trying _ to make a baby.  Too many of his friends had become young parents, and trapped by an adult’s responsibility while they were still kids themselves.  

How could he have forgotten?  He had wanted to bury himself in Amelie Lacroix so badly, spill into her body till she was soaked with his seed…  Had he been  _ trying _ to knock her up?

“That’s not like you, Gabriel.” Ana commented, frowning.  She had known Reyes long enough to know he was almost religious about protection.  It was also unlike him to have relations with a married woman.

“Did she… do something to you?  Is it possible she drugged you?” Ana asked quietly, wondering again if Amelie had targeted Gabriel Reyes.

“She was… alive.  She was so beautiful, and eager, and so very alive.” Gabriel answered, not sure he could put into words the energy, the heat, that existed between him and Amelie Lacroix.

“There’s this sound she makes, when I buried all of myself into her, this whimper.  I can’t explain it. I wanted to force that sound out of her, over and over, till she was crying it without end.” 

“Okay.  That may be TMI.” Ana sniffed, “So no drugs.  That’s all you had to say.”

“In any case, I am making sure it’s not going to happen again.  I’m not going to let myself be alone with her again. I’ve already delegated her training to Genji and Jesse...”

“I want you to keep fucking her.” Ana spoke firmly.

“...say what?!” Gabriel wondered if Ana had finally lost her mind.

“Screw her silly if you have to.” Ana nodded, “Get her to open up to you. Find out her story. Treat her like a mission.”   

“Is she?  A mission.” Gabriel’s voice went flat.  It was beginning to make sense now.

“She might be.  Gabriel, what she did today on the rifle range, that is a possible red flag we can’t ignore.  Either she’s more than what she seems, and needs to be identified and possibly eliminated, or she’s a possible asset that we can’t afford to lose.”

“What are you talking about?  Yeah her marksmanship was terrifying and amazing…” Gabriel protested.

“I wasn’t looking at her targets while she was shooting.” Ana interrupted him, “You all were looking at where she was shooting.  I was watching her.”

“And…?”  Gabriel frowned, wondering what Ana was getting at.

“She was perfectly still, except for the precise actions she had to take to load her gun.  No extra motion with her head or body. She could have been a statue. I’ve only seen professional snipers exhibit this kind of stillness, only the best of the best.” Ana’s voice was careful as she took in the tension gathering in Gabriel’s frame.

“There’s more.” she added, “There was a wide assortment in targets today.  Some were meant to represent people, others animals, even some that represented omnics.”

“Yeah?  That’s not unusual.” Gabriel was listening, storing the information in that place in his mind that he kept just for field action.  His entire demeanor had gone cold, and calculating. 

“She went for the kill shot for all of them.  Head shots in the T zone for the humans, for the animals, the brain pan, each one, and for the omnics, she targeted the core processor unit, and she got it right for each make and model that was represented.” Ana inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly, her dark eyes meeting Gabriel Reyes’ equally dark gaze, “That’s more than just being a good marksman, or a sharp shooter.  That’s hallmark of a top grade  _ assassin _ .”

 

To be continued  



	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And they danced.

Tipping the Hourglass 15

 

**December 31 2067**

 

The last day of 2067, and the brink of the new year where _everything_ would change.  

 

Amelie finished her make up and considered her reflection.  Smoky eye shadow brought out the almost golden glow of her pale brown eyes, creamy, dark red lips with just a hint of glitter to the lower lip and the shimmer of a little more opalescent sheen to her high cheek bones and to the edges of her eyes.  Hair in an upswept style, with dangling kiss curls. Her pale shoulders were bare, A single red stone in an hourglass configuration hung at her neck. She had a snug, bust hugging, empire waist gown, also in the same shade of creamy dark red. Silk, it was light and strong, the skirt falling to just above floor length in back, the front cut almost indecently high, showing off smoky black silk stockings on her long dancer legs.  Her shoes were gladiator style, criss crossed leather straps that stopped below the knee, with modest heels, in darker red leather that almost looked black.

She felt naked.  Not because of her revealing silk dress.  She had not a single weapon at hand. No gun, or knife, or even a comforting garotte wire.  She sighed, and closed her eyes, reminding herself that there was no need. Besides, there would be whatever was at hand if she really wanted to kill someone.  No one else would be armed, so it was almost a fair fight. Almost. She rubbed her wrists, and finally reached for the garnet and seed pearl bracelet Gerard had given her.  She forgot the occasion, but remembered her past self had been charmed by the semi-precious stones. She noted the diamonds on his stick pin and cufflinks were real, if tiny.  

Small things that leapt out to her now, about the Amelie of the past, and her relationship with Gerard.  He calculated every cost, and used their budget like a general waging war. Gerard had grown up in impoverished circumstances, it had given him steel like resolve to succeed, and become the powerful and wealthy gentleman he had always been meant to be.  He was brave, to be sure, and had won renown during the Omnic Crisis, which he had parlayed into a career in Overwatch. But while he could be a man of action, Gerard’s true strength was in assessment, taking the minutiae of the enemies intake and outtake of funds, following the web of associations and the lines of power, those who had it and those scrambling to get it.  In a way, he was far more dangerous to Talon than any of their so called heroes. He had his eye on the life’s blood of the organization. The money.

Still, Amelie felt fretful.  Even though she knew it wasn’t necessary, her natural good looks were all the ornamentation she would need, still she would have liked _something_ a little more real for her own ensemble.  No… it didn’t matter. Since it could not be helped, she shook the idle desire from her and picked up her tiny clutch bag.  Butter soft black suede, a forgotten designer name, she was fond of it because it had been given to her as a gift from an admirer.  How the Amelie of the past had clung to these small tokens pressed on her by her adoring fans. She even kept pressings of her favorite bouquets, the fragile reminders that when she danced, people _loved_ her.  Love had been so important to Amelie, she had craved it like opium addicts lived for the fragrant and soothing smoke of the poppy.  She also remembered how, when Gerard had found out, he had disposed of it. She wasn’t going to let him know this time around. He’d always been a little on the jealous side.  She’d thought it was charming, at the time. This time, she’d rather keep the purse.

The night before, when she come home from training with the Blackwatch members for the first time, he’d been enthusiastic, if uninterested in the details.  It was being taken care of, and that was all that mattered. His main concern was that the men she was interacting with were respectful, Respectful and hands off.  She’d mentioned that how Gabriel Reyes wasn’t overjoyed with his task, and Gerard had laughed. Reyes was old school, he commented, and allowances should be made for the _old man_.  She’d smiled sweetly and agreed, because Gerard was used to agreement.  

She had to admit, he looked every bit the handsome, urbane socialite.  Hair in a careless back sweep, that was anything but careless, his broad shouldered frame shown off to it’s best advantage by the hand made suit.  White and black were his colors tonight. White jacket over black silk shirt. White silk tie. Black slacks and two toned black and white shoes. The designer shoes cost more than her entire ensemble put together, but they made the perfect finishing touch for Gerard.  He looked fantastic. She looked equally fabulous on his arm. Once upon a time that had been enough. She mentally reminded herself that Gerard would be happy enough alive, but without her, than dead and _still_ without her.  

It was time to go to the party.  

 

***

 

She hadn’t attended the Overwatch New Year’s Eve party the last time.  Before, there were no lessons in self defense, and she’d loitered in Paris, taking weeks to close out the house before joining Gerard in Switzerland.  Having been through it before, Amelie had simply finished business and taken care of loose ends in a quick and efficient manner. She was surprised to find Overwatch’s New Year’s Eve affair was quite lavish.  Everyone was in fine clothes, the side tables groaned with delicious food, and the live band of musicians played beautifully.

Amelie tapped her foot, wondering if Gerard would let her dance.  He was normally too busy to escort her on the dance floor, and his jealousy often kept her on the sidelines.  So she was surprised to have a strong, dark skinned hand, extended palm up for her to place her own into. Gabriel Reyes… cleaned up nicely.  Out of the training and work out attire, he looked… suave and sophisticated.

“Gerard said you liked to dance.”

The invitation was clear.  For a long moment Amelie considered, before finally laying her hand delicately into the grasp of the man who would become the Reaper.

“I do.”

Gerard waved at her, and Amelie relaxed.  He didn’t care, and he wasn’t going to make a scene about her being with Reyes.  He’d already mentally placed the Blackwatch commander into his _safe_ mental compartment.  He had no idea how _unsafe_ Gabriel Reyes really was.  Amelie was surprised though.  After their encounter in the training room, Gabriel had made it clear he wasn’t going to be alone with her again, and that he was not going to acknowledge what had happened.  When it had really, truly, sunk in, she had felt… adrift. His cut left her without an anchor, without a compass. Moira was both solace and a way to keep her firmly established in the here and now.  She’d already searched for the Irish Doctor, but Moira hadn’t arrived yet. Still, here was Gabriel acting as if he hadn’t given her the cold shoulder for most of the day before.

“This is… unexpected.” She spoke softly, just for his ear as her cheek lay against his shoulder their bodies swaying to the music.

Gabriel sighed.  He wasn't entirely sold on Ana’s assassin theory.  Amelie Lacroix didn’t feel like an assassin to him right now, light as a feather in his arms.  He could smell the vanilla scent of her shampoo, vanilla and burnt sugar. It made her smell good enough to eat, and unwilling, his mouth began to water.  Part of him felt like he should apologize. Another part of him wanted to drag her to the nearest shadowed corner and feast on her like a feral predator.

She smelled sweet, like she’d melt in his mouth like candy, the center of her rich and savory and ready for devouring.  Already he knew he’d made a mistake in letting her this close to him. Damn Ana and her _mission_ to get to the secret center of Amelie Lacroix.  If she wanted to bare Amelie down to her soul, Ana could very well seduce the dark haired vixen herself.

“I thought, it couldn’t hurt to learn more about you.” Gabriel began, mentally smacking himself.

“Know your enemy?” Amelie quipped, a grin began tugging at her lips but slipped away as she saw the grim look in his eyes, “Oh… So then, are we enemies?”

“I didn’t say that.” Gabriel growled.  

The hurt in her eyes melted away to an expression of cool indifference.  However he could feel the stiffness in her back and saw the smallest quiver of her lower lip.  There was something about that glossy lower lip that made him want to lick it. Suck it between his teeth and bite it gently till she moaned and opened her mouth to his, letting him kiss her till she was warm and willing to let him do anything he wanted to her.  He wanted her that way, supple and wanton, open to his every touch, willing to give in to his every demand. Damn… Why did she have to be married? And to Gerard? To a friend?

The music shifted.  Someone had requested something spicy.  A tango? Gabriel remembered his father’s sister, Maria Anna Reyes, and how she’d commandeered him whenever she was short a boy for her dance classes.  Which was pretty much always. Because of his Tia Maria he was able to ballroom dance with the best of them, and he had. No few of Tia Maria’s students had made it to the competition circuit, some of them achieving championship status.  He hadn’t danced ballroom in years, but his body would always remember the tango.

Amelie was pulling away, about to leave the dance floor and him.  Impulse had him pulling her back in a close embrace as the music began it’s sensuous swirl.  Her eyes flashed, first in anger, then in challenge. If Gabriel Reyes wanted to tango with the _enemy,_ she would make him pay for it, in the way only someone who lived for dance could.  She had been a ballerina by profession, but Amelie Lacroix had cross trained as any good dancer would, and she could tango.  She could tango to make his bones melt and one particular part of him hard as stone. Let him take care of that on his own, because once the dance was done…

Gabriel let the beat of the music in his blood and flowed into the dance like his only reason in life was to seduce the woman trying to escape him.  He’d have her, or no one would. He’d immolate them both, and let them perish in the flames of his lust for her. They danced.

Angela watched, jaw dropped.  They were practically making love on the dance floor, and they were drawing an audience.  The band was playing just for them, as other dancers gave way and became spectators. She looked frantically about for Gerard, to see him with his back towards the dance floor, talking to Jack Morrison.  She didn’t know if she wanted him to turn around or not. The crowd watching were enthusiastic. Gabriel and Amelie were… Angela fanned herself. She didn’t think they were even aware of anything but each other.  The blatant sensuality of their movements. Shameless. The way Amelie slid herself against the Blackwatch Commander, it was indecent. The way Gabriel was running his hands on the black haired dancer… Angela felt her temperature rise, and fumbled for her glass of ice water.

“Makes you want to fuck, just watching them.” the amused comment just behind her, startled Angela into dropping her drink.  

The sound of breaking glass was covered by the music, but Moira’s laughter had Angela spinning around in anger.

“You!  You… !!” Angela could think of what to say, but she wanted to say it badly!

Moira looked over at Amelie and Gabriel coming to the finale of their dance, the heat and hunger coming off them in waves of sultry _need_.  There was no way they were not going to give in to their passions.  Moira was envious, and a little tipsy. She’d already started celebrating before reaching the party.  She was sorry to have arrived late, but seeing the look on Angela’s face as she watched the two tempestuous lovers on the dance floor… It was so adorably outraged.

While Angela was at a loss for words, Moira decided actions spoke louder than words.  Taking a step forward, she curled her arm around Angela’s waist, and _kissed_ her.  She’d been dying to do that since joining Overwatch.  Angela made the most delightful, outraged noises, but she didn’t try to break either the embrace or the kiss.  So Moira kept kissing her.

 

***

 

Amelie came back to her senses as the applause washed over them.  Her breathing was heavy, labored, every panting breath brought his scent to her, and made her head swim.  The strength of his hands on her, the sound of his equally harsh breathing, the heat of his body… She hated that she needed him so desperately.  But as he dragged her away from the dance floor, from the party goers, deeper into the darker, abandoned hallways of the Swiss Watchpoint, she couldn’t wait for him to find a place for them.   Even if it was the hard floor of an empty office, or the stall of an unoccupied bathroom, anywhere, anyplace, but soon! She couldn’t wait much longer.

Gabriel shut the door of the officer’s lounge and locked it.  Pulling Amelie to him, he kissed her. Kissed her and began stripping her, and himself.  This time he wanted to feel her flesh to flesh. Nothing between them but the heat of each other’s skin.  He’d never wanted anyone so badly before. He wanted his mouth on every inch of her, her mouth, her neck, her breasts… Everything… he would have everything of her.

He could hear her making sounds, but the blood was roaring in his ears with his desperate need.  There… yes that rich, savory center of her… She was crying out… while he feasted as if starved his entire life… she was a rich flood of warm, slick juices and he couldn’t get enough as she screamed so long it was like a primitive, primal song.  And when she begged… even if he couldn’t make out the words, he loved hearing her beg… He wanted to make her beg until her voice gave out…

Amelie cried, unable to voice herself any other way, cried, and screamed, and begged as Gabriel consumed her, her body trembling from the overwhelming sensation of his mouth, his tongue, the hands that gripped her and the heat that melted her beyond flesh…  She was… She was… She…

 

To be continued

 


	16. Chapter 16

Tipping the Hourglass 16

 

Amelie felt Gabriel Reyes lift her up in his arms.  She was aware he was laying her against him as they reclined on one of the backless couches in the expensively furnished lounge.  It was one of the senior officer rest and relaxation areas, empty only because any high level Overwatch officer in the Watchpoint was at the party.  Except for Blackwatch Commander Reyes, who had taken her, devoured her, made lose any semblance of coherent thought with his lips and his tongue and his hands.  She was naked, skin to his skin, and it was delicious to feel him against her, to rub herself like a cat against his hard muscled body. 

“Amelie…” He breathed her name in a sigh, before bringing his mouth to hers, and kissing her, long, slow, deliberately and deliciously.  She made a happy noise and kissed back, she could taste herself on his mouth, as she pressing her breasts so they flattened against his chest.  He wasn’t smooth, like Gerard who had a weekly waxing appointment at whatever spa was in his immediate vicinity. But the coarse hair on Gabriel Reyes was sparse, just enough texture to tease her, just enough rasp to bring the tender nubs of her nipples to attention as they brushed against him.  Her whole body was at attention. Every part of her was singing with desire for him, need for him.

Especially between her legs, where she was so wet and slick from his feasting on her, she feared she’d slide right off the divan they were laying on and puddle on the floor.  So she moaned in pure greedy delight when she felt him lift her loins over his, and slowly let her settle her entrance to his stiff as stone erection. She slid down on him, slow as molasses, feeling every inch fill her, press her open, relentlessly taking her, claiming her.

When she had finally slid to a stop, pressed against the base of him, she let out a shuddering cry.  Oh… He was in her… so fully and entirely in her…

He pulled her tight against him, and kissed her, not moving his hips yet, just resting full and deep inside her, the heat of his large and masculine hands cupping the round soft globes of her ass, he pulled her hard against him so that their bodies mashed and ground together, while his mouth swallowed the little cries she made with a deep throated growl.

If he hadn’t already brought her to hard, mind losing orgasms already with just his mouth and hunger for her, she would surely be losing herself just from this singular moment.  Of feeling him buried in her and holding her there, speared, her flesh impaled by his flesh. Her insides quivered, and her sex tightened on him just a little more, her body wanting him, needing him, loving him… 

Gabriel groaned into their kiss, unable to hold back, and his hips thrust!  The motion lifted her, the force moving from him through her like an earthquake, and she cried out. The feeling of him  _ moving _ in her was a glorious invitation to all her senses to feel alive, to become one with his heat, his energy, his pure  _ strength _ .  She rode with him, pressing back while he surged forward, This was how she wanted him, how she needed him, hard and limitless, all that enhanced strength of him pounding into her.   _ Oui... oui… oh… Dieu… oh!  ...Dieu! _

 

_ *** _

 

Jake Morrison frowned as Gerard began to search the crowd for his wife.  He’d seen Amelie Lacroix dancing with Gabriel earlier. He hadn’t had a good view, distracted by Gerard’s update on the new powers in Talon, including one Antonio Bartalotti who was escalating Talon operations world wide.  

“I wouldn’t be concerned, Gerard.  I last saw her with Commander Reyes.  He’ll keep her safe and out of trouble.” Jack commented, glad to see the relief in the new Blackwatch senior officer’s eyes.  “And I… oh!” 

Morrison broke off staring at a corner of the room where someone had started their own little party of two.  Doctor O’Deorain and Chief Medical Officer Angela Ziegler were kissing feverishly, like two teenagers flushed with glorious hormones.  Well, New Year’s Eve Parties were known for this sort of thing. He hadn’t thought those two were even hitting it off, so it showed what he knew.  He hoped they’d take it somewhere more private though, as their make out session looked a bit… risque, for public viewing.

Ana had joined them, a glass of champagne in hand.  Her gown was a dark, shimmering waterfall over her slender, strong yet utterly female body.  Gerard greeted her warmly, all that French charm suavely on display. Jack knew they had spent time in the field together.  They were very familiar with each other. A tug of concern made Jack wonder if they were perhaps... too familiar with each other?  There was a vibe there, two people who may have gotten intimately close during life and death situations. It happened. Jack just hoped what may have  happened in the past wouldn’t be the cause of problems in the future.

“Gerard, I feel I haven’t been as… friendly, to your Amelie, not as I should have.  I want to make up for this. I hadn’t realized she was such an amazing shooter. Really I think it is amazing that you never told us she was so good.” Ana spoke directly, never one to beat around the bush.

“Shooting?  Amelie’s little hobby you mean?” Gerard laughed, amused, “Her father used to take her out, hunting of all things!  I think she only kept it up out of respect for his memory. I didn’t go on her little hunting trips myself, but I understand she was happy with those outings.”

“To be truthful, I don’t like the idea of Amelie with a gun.  There are so many things that could go wrong, or where she could get hurt.  It’s not like she has to hunt to put food on the table. With my new position, Amelie can finally have the fine dresses and jewels that will make her the envy of all other women.”

“I… see.” Ana spoke slowly, thoughtfully, “I understand she was saving up for a special rifle?”

“Hmm?  Oh, once perhaps.  When she was younger and more silly.  I’m sure she’s outgrown that fancy by now.  She was only 19 when we got engaged, you know.” Gerard chuckled, winking and nudging his elbow in Jack’s side, his face sobered as he saw Ana’s eye’s narrow, “Sometimes I feel I was robbing the cradle, but my Amelie was so much more mature than other girls.  Already a professional dancer, with a promising career. I knew I had to seize the chance of making her mine forever.”

“She has a real talent, not just ballet, but in sharpshooting.” Ana commented, “I would not mind taking over that part of her training.  I myself was Jesse’s teacher, so I think she will not lose out if I take over.”

“Jesse McCree?  He is… one of her teachers?” Gerard didn’t sound happy to hear that.  

McCree had seemed like a fine Blackwatch agent when they had met in Paris.  Strong. Handsome.

“Ana, I think Amelie would be overjoyed to have you as her teacher.  In fact, I think she told me that she had a crush on you, when she was a child.  You were one of her heroes.” Gerard grinned, “I give her to you with my blessings, just don’t steal her heart from me.”

“Gerard, I think that may be the least of your worries.” Ana laughed with him.

 

to be continued

  
  



	17. Chapter 17

Tipping the Hourglass 17

 

Amelie rested against Gabriel Reyes, listening to the sound of his breathing.  She felt deliciously exhausted, and ached in all the best ways. She loved the feel of him, and couldn’t help kissing his flesh, nipping gently with her teeth, bringing a growl, low and and curious from the man who gathered her close in his arms.  She pressed her lips to his skin and sucked, loving the taste of him, salty, masculine, and if only for this moment, hers.

“You’re  gonna leave a mark.” Gabriel spoke, voice rough and raw from his own cries and roars of passion.

She bit.  And loved the sharp inhale of his breath, and the way his hand tightened in her hair.  He hauled her head up and dragged her so that they were face to face. Intense, abyss dark eyes staring into her half lidded gaze.

“Why?”

His question hung in the air, and she considered it.  Why? Why indeed? Before, in the other life she remembered with Reaper, there had not been this consuming hunger, this intoxicating desire to join her flesh with his.  She’d been… nuetered. The hungers of the flesh had been stripped from her as an unneeded distraction from her primary purpose. That she’d made a connection with Reaper at all was a small miracle.  She’d given him a grudging admiration, for his role as a death dealer, as her teammate. Had there perhaps been something beneath that? Something that might have grown to even a pale echo of what they were experiencing now?  This here and now, where she hungered so desperately for the touch, the taste, the almost tangible force of him that drew her like a moth to a flame… an _inferno_.  She wanted to immolate herself in his fire.  He made her feel… alive.

“Because you make me feel real.” she spoke without thought, the words simple and true, “Gerard looks at me and sees a beautiful, delicate doll.  Something pretty for display, and to spend his seed in like a dutiful husband, and to put away in the cabinet of his preconceptions. He thinks of me as an asset, and how he can use me to his best advantage.  I think I’ve always realized this, and when I first fell in love with Gerard… It was enough. I was young, and simple in my desires. It was enough to exist and make Gerard my universe, a moon to his sun. Wood to feed the fires of his ambitions.  And then… I woke up and found feeding his fires and only his, has left me cold and empty. I am no longer the same woman he married years ago.”

“Then, who are you?” Gabriel asked, his strong hands stroking her skin, as if he couldn’t keep from touching her, all of her.

“I am no longer sure who or what I am.” Amelie was honest, there was no reason not to be, “No longer the woman I once was, I am… still becoming the woman who lives here and now.  My dreams and desires, I am still discovering them. My need for you… and for Moira… I fear I am using you both as guide points in order to determine myself in the here and now. I am a danger to you both, I suppose.  Yet I cannot help myself. I think I must have you, or perish.”

“So dramatic.”

Gabriel’s low laughter was a lazy stoke to her senses, she wanted to lick it up like cream.

“You eat drama for breakfast.” she threw back and began kissing him, licking the taste of herself on his lips, cheeks, and skin.  She tasted good on him.

Gabriel stilled her by tightening his fingers in her hair, and a low needy keen escaped her.  He held her head still as he kissed her, slow and strong. His other hand stroked the length of her pressed naked against him, leaving a trail of heat that was warming her entire body.  She was flushed, no longer tired, and her body moved against his. He felt so strong, so hard, so male and so vitale. He felt so very much alive, and her body craved that well spring of life that surged from him like pounding surf of the ocean.  

Their mouths parted, and she moaned her need, “More, Gabriel.  Give me _more_.”

“Insatiable!” Gabriel growled, but he complied.

Rolling over, so that Amelie was beneath him, Reyes dipped two of his fingers to press her sensitive clit between them, and began to tease her, rubbing the outer sides of her pink, swollen pleasure nub, he worked her till she was squirming and pleading in French.  The slick juice of her was the pure perfume of arousal, weeping from her as she cried out, hips frantically trying to thrust as he held her down and worked her closer to the edge. She was now weeping salty tears, driven to desperation in her need. His thumb would very gently stroke across the top of her clit, teasing the tip in brief, butterfly strokes, while fingers now dipped just barely into her sex and stroked more strongly driving her mad for the fullness of penetration, for the hard length of him to bury deep inside her.  

Amelie was nearly out of her mind with her need for him when he finally reared up, and thrust down, his now fully engorged cock at full mast, and ready for the deep and hard rutting that she craved with such desperation.  She screamed out her elation has he pierced her to the core, screamed and shook as she came immediately, and continued to cry almost pitifully as he continued to bore into her, hard, deep thrusts, now relentless as he continued to plow the fertile field of her womb.  He thrust into her with the extreme strength of an enhanced soldier, thrust and buried himself into her till he came to her limit, and pounded against it, again, and again, and again…!

Her tightness was destroying his ability to reason.  The thinking part of him fled, leaving only the instinct and the need to fill her with his thrusts, fill her with his seed.  He needed to bury the essence of himself so deeply into her, he’d be with her _forever_.  He pumped into her harder and faster, an engine of flesh that knew no limits.  The sound of her taking him roared in his ears, her screams the fuel that forced him to take her all the harder, all the deeper he could go!  She screamed… and he roared out in answer!

His!   _His woman_ …  His seed flooded her, and he kept thrusting, his seed would mark her as his, his seed would fill her to bursting, and still he would continue to claim her.  His! His mouth found her neck, and sucked, bringing the blood to the surface. He sucked and he marked and he lay his teeth to her flesh and bit. Not enough to break skin... quite.  He marked, his woman, and woe to any man who would deny it.

 

***

 

“Um… I think it’s already occupied.” Moira commented as the sounds of her commander and Amelie reverberated through the walls of the Officers Lounge.  

“ _Jo das chasch säge, Gopfetori!”_ Angela swore in Germanic Swiss, “Honestly, does that woman ever stop having sex?”

“No need to fret, my angel,” Moira coo’d, “I happen to know for a fact that the rooms my Blackwatch team are staying in are absolutely abandoned right now.  Jesse and Genji will be celebrating till dawn, and now I know my Commander will be busy all night. I have the softest new fleeces on my queen bed, so much more comfy and roomy than any silly lounge chair or couch.

Angela frowned at the Overwatch Officers’ Lounge, angrily hopping as the sound of hard, driven sex came through loud and clear.  Moira smiled, knowing how being wound up only made Angela more passionate. She guided the beautiful blonde Doctor away and towards the residence area of the facility.  

 

***

 

Ana leaned back in her chair at one of the security stations.  She’d slipped away from the party to look for Gabriel and Gerard’s wife Amelie.  She’d seen them dancing. Did Reyes totally not understand the meaning of discretion?  They’d all but painted their lust for each other on the walls, for all to see. It was lucky most of the people watching were unfamiliar with Amelie LaCroix, currently, but Ana had no expectation of that lasting.  Rumors were going to start going around, and all she could do now was start the process of back spinning the information. Gerard was no doubt going to end up hurt. There really was no way around that. But it was also quite clear his wife was…  Well, Amelie Lacroix was what she was. And whatever she was, was not going to be Gerard’s wife once he was well and truly aware of her extra-marital affairs. But Ana hoped that he could be let down more gently than not, and that the whole situation would not explode.  She hoped.

Meanwhile she put in the authorization that would encrypt the security footage of Gabriel and Amelie’s illicit romps in the facility.  She’d done the same for the encounter with Moira. What part of secured facility did these idiots not understand? Moira she could forgive for being medical and not intelligence gathering personnel, but Gabriel?  Amelie must have destroyed the part of his brain that functioned logically. He was fucking Gerard’s wife with no protection again. Drilling her like it was his mission to get her knocked up with his baby.

Ana sighed.  She knew Gabriel’s last break up had really hit him hard.  Not so much for the woman, as for the child they’d created together.  Being a single parent was… challenging. He’d known his kid was better off with the mother, and hadn’t fought for custody.  Maybe, not even realizing it, he was trying to fill that void in his life. Gabriel might have an ass kicking, tough guy exterior, but Ana knew the soft, gooey marshmallow center that hid deep inside of him.  He loved kids. He loved his own kid like the earth loves the sun. And from how she watched him bury himself into Amelie Lacroix… she wondered if it was already too late, that Gabriel was already compromised.   Hell, she was the one who had ordered him to continue relations with Gerard’s wife. If they caught hell for this, part of it was definitely on her plate. But as the French said, “ _Que sera, sera._ ”

 

***

 

The woman watching the encrypted feed was almost vibrating with glee.  She’d been investigating Gerard Lacroix on Talon orders for the last year, and for an entire year, _nada_.  The man was so squeaky clean she wondered if he pooped flowers.  But his wife… she’d been almost as boring, except she was so very pretty and watching her dance made odd feelings trill through the spy in the shadows.  

_Ahora_ … now she so very NOT boring!   _Madre de Dios_ … if nothing else, the videos collected so far in the Overwatch facility alone were worth keeping in a very special spank bank.   That Gabriel Reyes. _¡Mi hombre apuesto_ , _joder si, trabaja ese coño!_  

_“_ ¡ _Qué interesante víspera de año nuevo!”_ ** _,_** she grinned impishly, fading into the darkness, “Perhaps my New Year’s resolution will be to make new friends.”

 

To be continued

 


	18. Chapter 18

Tipping the Hourglass 18

 

Amelie admired the mark on her neck, Rea… Reyes didn’t do things by half measures.  It was dark and distinct. She stroked it and hissed at the sting. She’d feel it for a while.  She’d find a way to explain it. Her whole body hummed with satisfaction. Gabriel did not disappoint.  She’d asked for more, and he given it to her in abundance. The light in the Officers Lounge private bathroom was bright without being harsh.  Their designer deserved kudos. There was a nice bespoke feel to everything about the area. 

She carefully washed and wiped the signs of her and Gabe’s passion, and reapplied her makeup.  There, immaculate. The mark on her neck rode like a brand. Gabe’s brand. Simply seeing it made her loins tighten and ache.  She had it bad, Amelie realized. Yet even though it endangered her, she could not quite bring herself to regret it. The touch of Reyes made her entire body sing.  His kiss made her smoulder all the way to her soul. How much difference a different time and place made.

Gabriel had already tidied up and left, going back to the party while she took her time, so they would not be seen returning together.  As if that would fool anyone who’d seen them dance together. Amelie didn’t even bother trying to hide the mark with makeup, it would be a fools attempt at deception.  She’d brazen it out and challenge anyone to question it. She smiled at her reflection. It was the best way to ring out the end of the old year, and bring in the new. The midnight toast would see her into 2068, and then she’d learn if fate could truly be rewritten.

 

***

 

They were counting down to the stroke of midnight.  Champagne was sparkling in raised glasses and Amelie glided through party goers in various levels of intoxication and jubilation.  She oriented on her target and slid against her husband as he laughingly cheered and downed what looked to be the end of another glass.  The crowd shouted the final count.

 

**… five!** ****  
  


**… four!**

 

**… three!**

 

**… two!**

 

**… ONE!**

 

**HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!**

 

Gerard kissed her passionately, and Amelie kissed back.  Eyes closed, she thought of Gabriel Reyes and let the heat she felt for the Blackwatch Commander feed into her, lips, tongue, she pulled Gerard away with her, laughing, leading him away from the other party goers who were embracing and celebrating with tipsy abandon.  The bubbly had been flowing all through the evening and Lacroix had not been shy to partake. He normally had a glass or two with dinner, and was very social with his drinking at gatherings and parties. 

Amelie was familiar with her husband’s habits and remembered many a lovemaking had been flavored with a favorite wine.  Gerard was in the perfect amiable state, as she led him to a quiet outside area, what appeared to be a business park, where Overwatch personnel could get some fresh air and enjoy the manicured garden.  There were shadowed corners away from the dim lamp posts, outside the sight of the party goers still inside. The chill December, now January air kept others from enjoying the night air. Perfect.

While she felt the cold, Amelie didn’t let it keep her from her goal.  Gerard was surprised but elated at his wife adventurous actions. So  _ amorous _ !  As she slid down his pants and undergarments, his color rose, but he didn’t deign to stop her.  She only had to release his cock for it to rise for her. The chill air was no match for the silken warmth of her mouth, her rose colored lips slipping over his ruddy flesh, the delicious suction of her!  She suckled, and lapped with her sensually, sinuous tongue. She was teasing him to fullness, the sweet demanding constriction causing Gerard to buck and grind himself into the cavern of mouth and throat..  _ Dieu  _ He was the luckiest man alive!  He cried out his release! And felt her drink him down!  

Gerard spent his seed, and his reason soon followed.  He slumped against the wall that enclosed the garden area, eyes close to closing for the beautiful sleep that followed a balls deep release.

“ _ Non, mon ch _ é _ r _ !   _ C'est l'heure de rentrer”  _ Amelie admonished, speaking into his ear as she tugged his garments back into place. “Time to go  home.”

Gerard staggered slightly, but drew himself upright and with his arm around Amelie, allowing her to guide him towards the hover cars that were parked conveniently near the rest area.  Exactly as she planned. Gerard protested weakly as Amelie helped him into the passenger side. She laughed and kissed him, letting him taste himself on her lips and tongue. His grumbles were mostly ornamental, he was actually quite content and already falling asleep.  Amelie sighed as she slid into the driver’s seat. Passing her hand over the controls, she let the security field read her print signature and start the ignition. 

Amelie gave a voice command for the auto drive to take them home to their Swiss residence.  She was not intoxicated, but tired after the nights adventures. She let the car drive itself, just keeping watch in case of emergency she needed to take over manually.  She’d laid down her groundwork, when Gerard woke, he would no doubt assume any marks on her was his. Why would he suspect it was anything else? She looked at him sleeping so happy, his smile was as sweet as a baby.  

So little to keep him satisfied.  A pity she no longer was in love with him.  She felt the damp on her cheek, and brushed it with her fingertips.  Tears? She was fond of him, but it was such a distant feeling from the deep passion she’d once carried in her heart.  Time and torment had rent that sweet feeling, that devotion, from her. She could not go back to the same path she’d once tread.  For better or worse, she must blaze a new trail, make new bonds, claim new loves.

But for all that, she could still feel regret for what was once, that could not be again.

 

To be continue


	19. Chapter 19

Tipping the Hourglass 19

 

Amelie woke to the delicious scent of breakfast.  Gerard was making eggs benedict, the creamy hollandaise sauce being whisked to perfection, while sparkling fruit juice in tall glasses were already waiting.  She slid into a chair at the breakfast nook beside the kitchen and watched as her husband brought her a plate with a crunchy, toasted half muffin, topped with a slice of carved, smoked ham, buttery easy over egg, and the sinfully golden hollandaise.

“Is it my birthday and I forgot?  Or do you have a favor to ask me?”

Gerard hummed, as he set his own plate down across from hers and faced her with big pleading eyes.

“I may have done something last night that could upset you, Amelie.” he spoke carefully, his hands clasping her hands

“Oh?  This sounds like it may take more than breakfast to appease me!” she spoke warily, eyes on the beautiful setting.  

It had often been Gerard’s habit to make some adjustment to her life without asking first.  Previously, Amelie hadn’t minded _too_ much.  After years of Talon dictating her life Amelie was both much more accomodating, yet irritated.  But then it would really depend on just what kind of change Gerard had made.

“What did you do _mon chou_?”

“I may have gotten rid of Jesse McCree as your shooting instructor…” Gerard winced slightly but held fast to Amelie’s hands as she stood, pushing back her chair, glaring down at her husband.

“... aaaand I may have promised you to Ana Amari.  As a student.” he finished.

“You WHAT?!” Amelie’s voice rose on the last word, her eyes wide and incredulous.  

He’d promised her to his one time lover?  To Ana? Wait… WHAT?

“It’s a compliment!  My sweet cabbage, she was very impressed with your shooting!  It’s an honor that she asked to be your teacher! And you once said you admired the woman!  You even told me you had a sweet little crush on her as a girl…”

Horror began to build in the back of Amelie’s brain, “And you told her this?  That I had a _CRUSH_ on her?!”

“Maaaaybe?” Gerard answered, eyes downcast, “I may have had a few too many glasses of Champaign?”

Amelie resisted the urge to smack Gerard over the head with her breakfast plate.  Instead she sat, and after Gerard carefully released her hands, she slowly and methodically began eating her breakfast, while thinking furiously.

The old harridan suspected her.  Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.  She didn’t want to spend extended time with Ana. So many things could go wrong, or worse.  But… what really could Strike Commander Amari do to her? Amelie in the here and now had no ties to Talon, and had committed no crimes… yet.  It wasn’t like they could jail her for future acts or assassination. Gerard was even still alive. She was showing ever so much restraint.

So, so much restraint.  Amelie felt her cheeks burn.  Ana Amari knew about her once upon a time crush.  How utterly mortifying. Why had she ever bared her secrets to Gerard?  Stupid, stupid hero struck girl that she had once been? _Merde_!

“And your first session might be today!  Ana is coming over to speak with you this morning!” Gerard said as he had finished his breakfast while she’d been thinking and had already risen from the table and was making his escape, “ _Je t‘aime ma choupette!_ **_Salut!”_ **

_“Lâche!”_ she cried out to the closing door, “You coward… !”  

She sat down with a thump, and finished her breakfast.  So. Ana Amari was coming to visit her. She had to prepare.  How should she prepare? Amelie didn’t really know. At least Gerard hadn’t even commented on her love bite.  She didn’t know if she should laugh or cry. Laugh most likely. He hadn’t mentioned their small escapade at the New Year’s Eve party at Overwatch HQ either.  Ah, Gerard. The most self absorbed person she’d ever known. Amelie shook her head and drank her juice.

***

  
  
Ana Amari had no reservations when it came to finding out what she could about a possible danger to her loved ones and family.  To her, every Overwatch agent was part of her family, including Gerard. Ah, Gerard… Amari had many a fond memory of the new head of anti-Talon operations.  In the field, in bed, he had been a fine operative and lover. They had never been romantic, just friends who had shared the lust that came from being in intensely life threatening situations, and the excitement in having an adventurous partner in the bedsheets.  Ana had been happy for Gerard when she’d heard he’d found someone to be his wife.

Truly she had been happy, until meeting the woman in question, Amelie Lacroix.  For some reason, the pure, too youthful woman had seemed… child like. It was almost horrifying Gerard would have wed this woman more than two decades his junior.  She had been bubbly, bright eyed, and so abominably eager. For some reason Ana could not help but cut the girl down. She was too pretty, too young, too… Just too much!

Ana still thought the woman was too young.  Too young to handle Gerard, and too young to handle a sniper rifle the way she had in the practice range.  There were prodigies, but they practically lived for their art, with endless training day in and day out. Amelie Lacroix did have passion and drive… for ballet.  Her days and hours were spent moving her body to music. It was work, Ana acknowledged that, but it wasn’t shooting. Still, there was the proof of her own eyes on that practice range, that Amelie was… something strange.  She would solve this puzzle. This ballerina. Ana would do what she must do, however unpleasant it might be.

Ana didn’t bother knocking.  She found that many people did not lock their doors, and she like to be unexpected.  Turning the knob, a Mona Lisa smile gracing her lips, the older Egyptian woman entered the LaCroix home on cats feet.  There was just the faintest hint of music coming from below. It appeared the small house that Gerard was renting had a lower level.  Ana walked through the home, finding the stairs down, and padded down the steps. A family rec room perhaps, but remodeled for Amelie as a dance studio.  One wall was lined with mirrors, and there were mats, like one might have in a gym, off to the far end of the room, while the polished hardwood floor shone with an almost golden glow.  And on it, Amelie danced.

Ana had never seen her like this before.  Her body flowed like water. It was a very beautiful body.  Ana could admit that, because she was not blind. Also because there was almost nothing to obscure Amelie Lacroix’s body to the viewer’s eye.  Apparently when she was alone, Amelie Lacroix would dance in the near nude. She wore a full body leotard, that was almost translucent. It was more seductive than being simply naked, as it teased by nearly revealing the body beneath, nearly but not quite.  However it revealed enough that Ana knew it was the only thing, wispy as it was, that Amelie wore. Ana knew she should retreat. Knock, or ring the bell, so that the younger woman would have time to dress and prepare for company. But she didn’t. Instead she watched.  Gerard’s wife might have noticed her, but her eyes were closed, she was lost in the music, and her body wasn’t simply supple, her movements were not just graceful, there was a kind of mesmerizing power to her dance.

An old song from a pre-Omnic war period crooned through the speakers.   _You’ll believe god is a woman…_

 

to be continued

 


	20. Chapter 20

Tipping the Hourglass 20

 

Amelie let her body move with sensual heat.  She’d gotten used to the constant warmth she now felt, and had begun to luxuriate in it.  After her sense intoxicating encounter with Gabriel Reyes the night before, she wanted to celebrate the memory of it while the elation still lingered in her blood.  It had been…

She had no words to describe it, only feelings and emotions that she expressed physically, in her dancing.  Swaying to the music, she let her hands slide over her nearly bare skin. Her almost sheer bodystocking was close to being naked, but she liked the slick lack of friction as she stroked herself.  There was a strange feeling of freedom in the light constriction, that whisper of resistance, that gave her something to press against. She could have dance naked, but it didn’t feel quite right.  She liked having something on her skin, and still have that sensual feeling of being natural and provocative. She let her erotically fueled delight speak through her movements.

One song followed the next, a mix selected by the recently installed house A.I. that was still unnamed.  When she’d asked for sensual dance music, it had begun a playlist of pre-Omnic War pieces she was becoming fond of.  The song had changed over from _God is a Woman_ to something harder, something called _River_.

_How do we fall in love_

_Harder than a bullet could hit ya?_

She let her movements become more forceful, aggressive.

 

_How do we fall apart_

_Faster than a hair pin trigger?_

Faster, wilder.

 

_Don't you say, don't you say it_

_Don't say, don't you say it_

_One breath, it'll just break it_

Combative… she danced out a kata that Genji had given her to practice, martial arts and the graceful flow of dance wed together as natural as breathing...

_So shut your mouth and run me like a river_

_Shut your mouth, baby stand and deliver_

_Holy hands, oh they make me a sinner_

Dancing, fighting, fucking… they mixed in her mind and in her movements

_Like a river, like a river_

_Shut your mouth and run me like a river_

She finished on her back, legs spread, hands stroking at the heated center there that was needing… oh needing again.

Opening her eyes she looked up into Ana’s dark gaze.  

 

***

 

Ana wasn’t sure what she’d just seen.  It sure as Horus was not ballet, even if the dancer had all the grace and strength of a prima, the dance had been a wild, emotional outpouring, as openly erotic as the rudest strip tease, as full of fight as a battle to the death,  it was raw and passionate. Ana felt embarrassed now, red rising even through her darkly bronzed Egyptian complexion. She stared down at the panting, sweat soaked woman laying on her back who was touching herself in a way that should have called for privacy.  

“ _Ya hilwa._ Pretty.  I should have known you could dance more than ballet after your display last night.  You and Gabriel made the dance floor sizzle.” Ana spoke as it were normal to have a conversation while the Amelie was openly and erotically displayed.

“I hate you.”  Amelie breathed out as she flowed to her feet, coming to a standing stance while redoing her ponytail.  Her hair wasn’t as long now, and the bottom of her hair, while up, didn’t more than brush the bottom of her neck.  “Why are you here, in my home, Ana Amari? I didn’t pin you as a voyeur. However if that is your kink, perhaps we can work something out.”

She gave the older woman a clipped, falsely polite smile.  Her pale brown eyes blazed. Amelie hadn’t expected to have her privacy so brazenly violated.  Gerard hadn’t given her a time for Ana’s visit, and she’d erroneously assumed it would be much later in the morning.  It was both Sunday and New Years. People were no doubt barely recovering from all the celebration from the party at this hour.

“Gerard told you I’d be taking over Jesse’s tutoring in guns…” Ana began.

“Why?” Amelie cut to the chase, “You’ve barely acknowledged my existence before Ana.  I am to believe you want to be… _friends_ … now?  Because I can hit a target?  This isn’t an adolescent drama.  I am no desperate to be loved ingenue ready to follow the cool mean girl who rules the school.”

“Mean girl?” Ana laughed, “That is a new one.  I’m old enough to be your mother, little miss ballerina.”

“But you’re not my mother.” Amelie snapped, “And I’m not a miss, I’m a Mrs.   Mrs Gerard Lacroix. You would do well to remember that.”

“Oh, your marriage to Gerard has been on my mind of late.  As has your numerous affairs. You and Gabriel, and the Doctor O’Deorain.  You have gotten around in the few days of your arrival.” Ana answered, a grim tone beginning to enter her voice.

Amelie laughed.  

“So,” she spoke sarcastically, “Are you planning to tattle to Gerard?  Or are you here to try and blackmail me? What are you angling for Ana?  Perhaps you want a taste? I’m your daughter’s age, but that matters little.  Gerard is old enough to be my father. Did you want to role play? Should I call you ‘mama’ while you fuck me?  Or were you wanting something harder? I’m versatile, I can be top or bottom. But you’d have to convince me it’s worth my while.”

“Brazen creature.” Ana breathed with a choked laugh.  

Strike Force Commander Amari wasn’t amused, but she was... _fascinated._  Amelie Lacroix was a puzzle that was becoming _more_ complex the more she was picked at.  This younger woman should be afraid, caught in a vulnerable position.  But instead, she was barely sheathed threat. Her words were both antagonising and provocative, but she was using them to a purpose.  Amelie was trying to pump Ana for information. How very, truly, curious.

“We will put a pin on that thought, Amelie.  I’m flattered you have these fantasies about me.” Ana let the condescension drip from her voice, “I may be older, but that only means I am much more experienced.   But let’s get back to your training. Your firearms training, that is. Run and put on some clothes, little girl. Auntie Ana is going to take you shooting today. And if you are very good, I may let you play with my toys again.”

Amelie Lacroix seemed to freeze, waiting a long moment before speaking.

“The Kinamura?”

“Among others.” Ana answered, seeing the deep, undisguised longing in Gerard’s wife.  

_Curious indeed_ …

 

To be continued

  



	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Live game.

Tipping the Hourglass 21

 

Amelie studied the terrain with narrowed eyes.  Ana had taken her to Versoix, into the wooded area that was a federally protected private reserve.  Ana apparently had special access. It was beautiful, and chilly. Later it would be in the mid 40s Fahrenheit, but at the moment it was barely above freezing.  After being numb to the cold for so long, Amelie was actually enjoying the brisk weather. She was dressed warmly in snug fleece undergarments, with sturdy woolen outerwear, including a hunting cap and jacket.  Fine gloves covered the hands holding one of Ana’s rifles. It wasn’t the Kinamura, but a very high quality Swiss model. It didn’t have the same range, but for anything 300 to a thousand meters, it would do nicely.

Ana had given her live ammo.  When Amelie had asked about targets, the older woman had smiled grimly and pointed into the far distance.  The gleam of metal under the early morning sun revealed the bare forms of omnics seeking shelter, hurrying from pine tree to pine tree, weaving their way deeper into the woods.

“Those are… domestics.” Amelie spoke quietly, the mist of her breath trailing after her words.  She could see through her scope, which she’d brought up to one eye, “Waiters, gofers, maids, entertainment omnics.”      

“Targets.” Ana spoke flatly, “These have all been slated for decommission.  They are discarded property. They are being given a chance to act as live game, and if they survive, they will be given emancipation papers and be relocated to more omnic friendly territories.  

“You’re joking.” Amelie’s words were protesting, but her aim was already on the leading omnic, once a smooth, shining steel color, time and wear had led to a more tarnished and abraded finish.  Too worn for a wealthy home. Unaffordable to the lower income brackets who would as soon destroy an unprotected domestic omnic as reach out a hand in friendship. The Omnic War was over, but the wounds were fresh to many.  There were few if any laws to protect the artificial beings in most countries, despite the movements to recognise them as fellow sentients and citizens.

“Take them out, Amelie.  If you can.” Ana ordered.

“I have nothing to prove to you.” Amelie bit the inside of her cheek, and made herself lower the rifle.

There was a fine tremor in her hands.  She wanted to hunt. She wanted to kill.  But Ana was watching. It would be dangerous for the older woman to see Amelie taking down these downtrodden omnics.  It would be easy though, the fleeing targets had no wood craft, and they stood out against the terrain.

“If you do not hunt them, enough to cull a third to half their number at least, then they will all be destroyed.  The survivors safety is only guarenteed if there is a real hunter trying to take them out.” Ana explained, dark eyes as cold as the winter wind, “There are papers for only 2 thirds of their number, maybe less.  To save even those, you must take down enough that the remainder do not outnumber the manumission certificates.”

“Barbaric.” Amelie breathed, but her heart began to race with the excitement now bubbling through her.  That would not do. She forced calm on herself, letting her mind focus only on the omnics fleeing before her.

“They will be out of range soon.” Ana noted.

“No.  They will not.” Amelie’s voice was impersonal, devoid of feeling as she sighted her original target and fired.

Omnics began to fall, some immediately still, others convulsed, arms and legs twitching as residual power spasmed through their human like frames, but no less deceased.  There were perhaps 30 targets, and Amelie had already taken down 9. One more would meet the one third requirement, but she could take down another five if she wanted to go for the halfway…  

The omnic she’s chosen stood still, the others continued to hurry, some tripping and crawling in the dirt to make it to whatever safepoint had been designated to them.  The golden colored omic simply stood tall, her imitation hair was in a permanent feminine style, her body a classic hourglass shape. She looked familiar.

“Luna… ?” Amelie swallowed the name, and moved her sight to the omnics just behind the cabaret singer.  One had fallen and damaged a leg. The still standing Omnic was making herself an easy shot to give the other a chance to make it to safety.  Foolish, foolish Luna. Amelie liked her singing though.

Three quick cracks of the rifle, and another three omnics fell.  Luna and her wounded friend were not among them.

“Are we done?” Amelie had already slung the rifle over her shoulder after setting the safety, her voice bored, her pale brown eyes shining as Ana spoke into her communicator.

“Yes.  Very Impressive.  The range here does not have the distance as the one at the Overwatch Watchpoint.  But these targets were moving, live prey. You didn’t hesitate once you began shooting.  You just took them down, methodically. You have what it takes, Amelie Lacroix.” Ana congratulated her.  “I’ll be speaking to Jack about you.”

“Speaking to Commander Morrison?” Amelie felt alarm now, rising like a cobra in the back of her brain.  

“About your placement in Blackwatch.  We’ve been needing a qualified sniper in Gabriel’s team.”

“What?!” Amelie’s anger and surprise were squeezed out of her like a giant’s fist had suddenly seized her and closed tight.  “What are you talking about, Amari? Have you lost your wits?”

“You don’t really have a choice, Amelie.  You are a born killer. Either you are working for us, or you are working against us.  You know what Blackwatch is about. No matter what your husband might think, I know you are no innocent, Amelie Lacroix.” Ana spoke with chilling precision, “Unless you can prove you are team Overwatch, or in this case team Blackwatch, I will have you put down.  We can’t afford to have a dangerous creature like you lurking in the shadows, undeclared.”

“Gerard…”Amelie began.

“Need not know.  No more than he knows now, about the fidelity of his pretty ballerina.  This isn’t blackmail, Amelie. It’s simply a courtesy. If you wish to reveal any or all to your husband, I leave that choice strictly to you.  If you wish to keep it concealed, I will do my best to cover for you, as I already have been doing. As long as you will work with Gabriel’s group, and do your best to keep them alive, and help fulfill their missions.  

“This is… madness.” Amelie felt the tremble in her voice.  

“It’s a mad, mad world.” Ana gave a dark chuckle, “But still, it is the world we must live in.  Your answer?”

Amelie’s pale brown eyes stared at Ana with a kind of fascinated horror, even as a half strangled laugh fell from her lips.

“The only answer possible.  Yes. Damn your soul Ana Amari.  My answer is yes.”

 

to be continued.


	22. Chapter 22

Tipping the Hourglass 22

 

Amelie was in a strange state of mind.  The normal bliss she felt from a successful kill was corrupted by Ana’s sudden power play.  She was certain that is why she felt depressed instead of elated. Twelve kills, and she felt like crying.  What was wrong with her? When she’d shot Mondatta, the beauty of the kill had nearly brought her to tears of joy, not sadness.  These were simple, common, worker omnics, but it never really mattered who her targets were. What had been important was… the challenge?  That exquisite instant she knew that the glow of life was extinguished? 

Perhaps it was that these poor omnics were not enemies of Talon, not targets designated for her by a Talon handler.  But Amelie doubted it. She’d had to eliminated non-designated targets before, and always there had been something of pleasure in their demise.  There wasn’t even the satisfaction of a flawless performance. One shot, one kill. It wasn’t always the truth, but close enough to have made her reputation in her other future.  Today she hadn’t wasted a single shot. Each omnic had gone down with a single bullet, and stayed down.

So why wasn’t she pleased?

It was Ana’s fault.  Amelie looked over at the older woman in the driver’s seat of the hover car.  It was one of the many vehicles provided by Overwatch for personnel. A generic “company car” kept at the main Swiss Watchpoint.  Ana would be returning to the Watchpoint first to do the paperwork making Amelie an official Blackwatch recruit.  _ Merde _ . 

 

***

 

Gabriel was in his office when he saw Ana and Amelie heading towards Jack’s.  Ana looked smug, and Amelie, her face seemed even more pale than her normal porcelain doll hue, and her whiskey eyes held a look he hadn’t seen before.  What had made her look so… wounded? The life seemed to have drained out of her. He’d never seen her without that vital spark of her spirit that spoke to his own.  What the hell? He had just come in to drop off a few reports, to get them out of the way so he could enjoy a little quiet time during the New Year’s Day holiday. He needed the holiday downtime to  _ think _ .  To figure out what he was going to do with whatever was developing between him and Amelie Lacroix.  Now he had the feeling Ana had taken choice out of his hands once more.

He hurried out of his office and over to Jack’s office to find out what fresh new trouble was going to yank the carpet out from under his feet.  

 

***

 

Jack frowned at Ana, feeling like someone was trying to put one over on him.  It had to be a prank of some sort. Ana wanted to process Gerard’s wife into Blackwatch?  The hell? 

“You want me to process the paperwork making Amelie LaCroix the newest member of Blackwatch?  Ana… You were giving me grief not a week ago about her getting Overwatch  _ training _ , now you want to make her an agent?  Of  _ Blackwatch _ ?”

“Ana!  What the hell have you done?” 

Gabriel’s entrance and outburst was startling, but not so much as the way Gerard’s wife reacted.  She slid into his arms like she belonged there. Her face pressed to Reye’s chest, she trembled like a leaf in a storm.  

“I tested her out at Versoix.  She took out 12 omnics like a pro.  A natural killer. You should thank me, she will help complete your team.  You have a healer, now a sniper, you only need a tank and you’ll have the full squad.  She was a wasted resource, Reyes, I just made her more… useful.” Ana’s explanation did little to calm Gabriel’s outraged look as he cradled the sniper in question in his arms.

“You blooded her?” His growl was low and raw.

“Ana!” Jack couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  He’d known about blooding their Blackwatch agents at Versoix, and disapproved, “I thought I made it clear we were not going to keep up that practice!”

“And I thought it was clear that when I vetted our next sniper, I would have full discretion on how I’d do so.  No limits.” Ana’s rough voice was like a steel trap, snapping shut without mercy.

“I can’t believe… “ Gabriel couldn’t even finish his words.  The woman in his arms had stilled, but he could feel the chill on her as she pressed against him, as if she would melt into him to escape.

“Not everyone is a cold blooded killer like you.” He finally spat out with a glare.

“You mean like  _ us _ .” Ana shrugged, “There is no one in this room whose hands are clean.  We are  _ all _ prepared to do the necessary, when called to do so.  You should have seen her, Reyes. Twelve shots, twelve kills, in as many heart beats.  Smooth as silk.”

Gabriel stilled, then gently lifted Amelie’s chin with his curled fingers so he could look into her eyes.

“Are you okay?” He asked, quietly.

“No.  I don’t think that I am.” Amelie’s voice was soft, almost faint, “I don’t understand.  Normally… when I shoot well, I have a… nice feeling. I shot well today, but all I feel is… cold.  Unhappy. I don’t know what’s wrong. Maybe I am coming down with an illness?”

Gabriel glared at Ana.

“Just hold me for a little, Gabriel.  I’m sure it will pass. I won’t… I won’t be weak in the field.  I’ll help keep you… I’ll help keep your team safe.”

Amelie wanted to feel Gabriel more.  The clothing between them was one barrier too many.  She wanted to feel the heat of his skin against hers.  She knew that Jack Morrison’s office wasn’t the place. Now was not the time… but still, she wanted him.  The cold left her body as it pressed against his, leaving a yearning, aching heat. Whatever malaise had gripped her, she knew it would melt away at his touch.

A little needful keen left her lips.  She felt his his shift, and the bulge of him grow against her.   His hands holding her close, gripped tighter.

“Amelie, “ Gabriel knew what she was needing.  What they were both needing. But he also knew he had to address what Ana had done, before the moment passed, “Are Omnics people, or property, to you?”

“Don’t be silly.  The high functioning ones are as much people as any flesh and blood human.” Amelie spoke a little crossly, not sure what Gabriel was angling at.  She didn’t want to be here in Jack’s office, when she could be somewhere else, alone with Gabriel.

“So you just killed twelve people this morning.” Gabriel spoke, his voice like gravel, and whiskey, rough and intoxicating, and strangely sad.

“Yes.  I murdered them.  Ana said they would all die if I didn’t cull them.  I am not sorry. But… is this why I am… sad? How strange…  I don’t… I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way before.” Amelie felt the hot trickle of tears down her face, and rubbed her cheek against Gabriel’s firm chest, trying to deny them.

“I don’t cry.  I never cry.” Amelie’s voice was muffled against Gabiel’s chest.  She didn't cry over her kills. That would be ridiculous. Why wouldn't these stupid tears stop?

 

To be continued

  
  



	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amelie reflects, and receives a visitor.

Tipping the Hourglass 23

 

Amelie sighed.  She was going to leave Gerard.  Now, as a Blackwatch agent, she no longer needed to be Gerard’s wife to have access to to the training and equipment that Overwatch could provide.  She had been planning to leave him before, this was simply accelerating her plans. It was better for them both this way. Talon would not have a reason to kidnap her if she were Gerard’s  **_ex-_ ** wife, estranged from him.  It might even keep Gerard alive if she wasn’t close enough to him to kill him.  Perhaps. It would be up to him now to survive. 

She didn’t get time to spend with Gabriel Reyes that day, after all.  Much to her disappointment. Commander Morrison had done as Ana wanted, as if there was any question he would not.  The Strike Commander might not have the rank over her friend and co-worker, but her influence was strong. Even if Jack thought the idea was odd, he trusted Ana.  He didn’t question it. Much. He didn’t fully understand the lengths Ana Amari would go to in order to protect her ‘family’, which was any length necessary. Ana was a sniper.  A killer in cold blood. A soldier in an undeclared war who had let Amelie know in no uncertain terms that becoming Blackwatch was not simply a choice, it was a delayed execution.  

It didn’t matter that Amelie wasn’t a declared enemy.  Her skill set and abilities had been recognized, as like knew like.  Ana would not let Amelie live in peace, not when she could exploit the younger sniper to Overwatch’s advantage.  Perhaps she would mellow with age, but here and now, it was the nature of the beast. A mother bear had no scruples when it came to the protection of her cubs.  So it was for Amelie, obey or be destroyed. It was a concept she was intimately familiar with. Amelie understood Ana perhaps more than anyone else in Overwatch ever could.  Much the good it would do her. 

Ana had commandeered the rest of Amelie’s day, getting her outfitted for Blackwatch, getting Amelie’s paperwork rushed through, even getting Amelie a room with Gabriel’s squad’s living quarters.  It was a modest space, a narrow bed, a closet, and the luxury of a private bathroom. It would do. Amelie would need a place to sleep once she broke off her marriage to Gerard. It was clear Ana didn’t expect the marriage last.  She was right of course, damn her. It was only a question of how soon Amelie would break the news to Gerard. 

Amelie had already packed a selection of clothes and toiletries.  The jewelry and small belongings were quick to box and set aside. So little to show for her life with Gerard.  For her life in general. She could disappear, and aside from Gerard’s temporary dismay, have no effect on the world.  It had happened in that other future. When Overwatch had found her, after Talon’s first taking her, it had been a huge surprise.  They’d already counted her as dead and forgotten. They’d patted each other’s back at having rescued her from Talon, so full of themselves they’d not even thought to examine her more thoroughly, to see the real damage done.  Talon had been so careful to make sure her flesh would not bear witness to her ordeal… 

Amelie shook off that line of thought.  It would do her little good. That future was not going to happen.  Looking around, Amelie knew the only thing she’d miss in this rented house was the private dance studio.  Overwatch had athletics gyms, and that would have to do. Strangely, she would still have more privacy sharing quarters with her new Blackwatch team than she had when she was a Talon agent.  Talon had kept her under constant surveillance and as much isolation as was possible and still have her work with other elite like Reaper and Sombra. An ordinary set of precautions for the valuable possession she was.  It had not been the worst thing. As an elite operative, she was allowed a little bit of leash. But if she pushed too much, it would quickly be pulled tight enough to choke on. So she would deal with Ana’s suspicious eyes on her.  Maybe she’d give Ana something to see. The older sniper wouldn’t have the same control of her that Talon had exercised, so perhaps she’d find a way to get under the Overwatch agent’s skin. 

Gerard would be working late tonight.  Amelie doubted she’d even see him in the morning, if he bothered to come home instead of falling asleep at his desk.  Even today, a holiday, he worked practically nonstop. Now, having reached his ambition as head of the new Overwatch facility in Rome, his workload increased exponentially.  In the other timeline, this had driven her to distraction. Now, it was a welcome relief. Having to deal with Gerard tonight would have been utterly exhausting even if she were not about to leave him.  She wanted all that she was taking with her already moved before they had a confrontation. It pained her, even now that she did not love him, to break a marriage. She had been brought up to believe in the bonds of matrimony, and some part of her still thought it should be till death do you part.  In her other life it actually had been till death. Gerard’s death. She was doing a favor by leaving him. It still didn’t make it feel any better.

Amelie stilled, the sensation of eyes on her, up close and personal.  A familiar presence entered her awareness.  _ How unexpected _ .  She’d started to pick up on Sombra’s sneaking up on her after the latina hacker had done it to her dozens of times or more.  The faint sound of her breathing, the light pad of her steps. The tightly wound sense of excitement that Sombra projected like a Cheshire cat’s grin.  

“Hello, Mrs. Lacroix,” Sombra’s voice purred out behind her.

Amelie pinched the bridge of her nose.  She was not going to punch the hacker. Maybe.  Maybe she would shoot her. If she had a gun. She reconsidered punching the girl.  Turning around she studied the young woman. Short black pixie cut. Talon outfit customized to have a little feminine flair.  Ever present smirk. She was just a baby! Was she even legal to drink? Amelie’s mind went over her mental dossier of her once and future Talon team mate.  She’d be… 20. Legal for France or Switzerland. At least she was better than that girl Lena. Maybe.

“Hello, Sombra.” Amelie answered, and for once saw the smirk on the other woman’s lips slip.

“Do we know each other?” the hacker asked, frowning.

“You tell me.” Amelie shrugged, and went back to her tablet, leaving the girl blinking in confusion.

Amelie had created an inventory of items still in packing boxes from the move from Paris.  She considered what she’d want to claim from Gerard. Sombra’s presence was a distracting anomaly.  In her other life she wouldn’t meet the Mexican woman for years, much as she would not have met Moira, not till both women were both established as elite Talon operatives.  Moira more so than Sombra, having made a steep, but direct, beeline for the highest authority in Talon. Sombra hadn’t bargained her unique skills to Talon for rank. She’d traded in for tech, skilled services from Talon’s arcane and illegal research and development departments.  It all worked to give Sombra her slippery as an eel kit in the future. Translocating. Cloaking. Annoying. 

Nope, check that, she was born annoying.  Amelie crossed off the translocating skill on her mental dossier.  The tech for it was an aftermath from the Slipstream fiasco and Winston’s work on Tracer’s stability device.  Stolen and repurposed science was a Talon trademark. Cloaking made Sombra bad enough. So did the annoying. Getting the chance to fuck with Sombra’s mind was a small payback for her future self.  

“Did you want something, Sombra?” Amelie asked, eyebrow quirking up in an arch of question, “If not, try to keep out of the way, I’m a little busy right now.”

 

To be continued.


	24. Chapter 24

Tipping the Hourglass 24

  
Actually, Amelie did wonder what Sombra was up to.  She’d always known the hacker was working her own agenda, even when she was on assignment with the Talon team of Reaper and Widowmaker.  The once and future Talon sniper still felt the the frustrated ache from the failed Volskaya assassination. Even though Doomfist was fine with the survival of Katya Volskaya, Widowmaker had always felt there was something wrong with the premature alarms that had spoiled her shot.  That Sombra failed in the follow up… Well there were red flags about Sombra from the get go, but she was such a peerless hacker, Talon command was willing to overlook her eccentricities. So long as the Mexican woman brought in the intelligence that gave Talon an edge in the hyper competitive field of the international underworld. 

Sombra could kill, Amelie had seen proof of that, but that was not one of her primary functions as it was with Reaper and Widowmaker.  Sombra was their recon and their intelligence agent, and the person who took down their targets computerized defenses. She was a valuable Talon asset, though Amelie would be the last to tell her.  So, why was Sombra here, in full Talon regalia, in the home of a now high ranking Overwatch agent? 

It was mainly Amelie’s curiosity that kept her from taking any overt action.  Perhaps what she’d learn now would explain what had happened with Volskaya. Clearly Sombra wasn’t here to kill Amelie.  Not only did Talon didn’t have a reason to kill Amelie Lacroix  _ yet _ , if they had wanted to murder her now, they’d have taken their shot at her.  Sombra wouldn’t be here alone to kidnap her, Talon would send a full  _ acquisition  _ team.  But here was Sombra, alone, not trying to shoot her, and openly initiating contact.  How terribly curious.

“I don’t think you realize how serious your situation is, Mrs. Lacroix.  Or should I call you Amelie.” Sombra’s voice purred out as she shrugged aside her target’s unsettling knowledge of her operative name, “You have been a very naughty girl, Amelie.”

“Pot calling the kettle black?” Amelie’s voice was amused.  

For as long as the Talon assassin had known Sombra, the latina’s theatrical nature was ever present, enough so that her attempt at being sinister and intimidating was actually kind of soothing.  Her initial annoyance at Sombra’s sudden appearance had been pure reflex. Before, Sombra’s constant prodding had been an irritation to Widowmaker’s conditioned state. Still, years of Sombra’s smart mouth sass had become familiar background noise.  As with Moira and Gabriel, her reaction to Sombra in a younger, more visceral state, was… more relaxed? Somehow, warmer? Amelie’s earlier gloom mood had lifted. Just by being here. Sombra’s presence had broken her state of depression. 

“If I were to look up the definition of naughty, I think I’d find your call sign there, Sombra.” Amelie laughed, “If only because you hacked the world web to show off."

Sombra frowned.  She had actually put her little sugar skull icon on a few, choice, world web browsers search definitions.  Okay this was getting a little freaky. 

“Instead of my call sign, what if these little videos of you were put up instead?” she threw up multiple holoscreens with the little saucy gifs she’d put together of Amelie, gloriously naked and riding Black Watch Commander Gabriel Reyes’ impressive cock.  It alternated with scenes of Amelie in the Overwatch medical bay with Moira, bodies bare, intertwined as they kissed, and caressed each other to an overlay of lovers’ moans and cries looping in a symphony of sexual celebration.

Amelie watched them, blinking slowly.  She knew she should be feeling shame or violation at being filmed during sexual intimacy with her lovers.  But she felt nothing more than a quiet, but growing arousal as the reminders led to sensual flashbacks of the bold, erotic touching, the taste of Moira’s pale, silk soft skin, the deeply male scent of Gabriel as his body covered hers.  Dark and bright, beautiful, both of them. Either of them as keenly dangerous as they were beautiful, and she loved them for that all the more.  _ Loved _ …?  No… lusted… it was only lust, wasn’t it?  She frowned, and banished the notion. She couldn’t afford to love anyone.

“Ah hah!  I knew you would be disturbed to have your lusty adventures up for all to see!” Sombra gloated, mistaking Amelie’s reaction to her little show and tell.

Amelie brought her attention back to baby Sombra, as she’d designated the Talon agent in her mind.  Amelie thought she knew where this was heading, but she wanted the other woman to confirm it.

“Is that your intention?  To try and  _ embarrass  _ me?  Really, Sombra?   _ Slut shaming _ ?  It seems… an odd course of action for you.” Amelie’s voice held the disappointment and mild disapproval of an adult for an underachieving child.

“ _ Dios! _  I am not actually going to put them on the world web..!” Sombra face palmed, then pulling back her composure, looked at the French woman with a very serious expression, “I would never do that to an  _ amiga _ .  I would do my best to protect a  _ friend _ .  You want to be my friend, don’t you Amelie?”

Some little devil in Amelie made her step close to Sombra.  Alarmingly close. Sombra was used to standing her ground, but there was something disturbing about the woman she was trying to  _ befriend _ .  Sombra tried to step back, her heel catching on a packing box, she tripped backwards onto the large bed set Swiss style low to the ground, simply a single mattress on a solid low bed base.  

“Hmm…” Amelie’s eyes lit up with an unexpected feeling of mischief.  She stepped forward and kneeled down, straddling the disconcerted hacker. 

“Just how… _ friendly _ were you wanting me to be?” She purred, letting her French accent coat her words in sultry innuendo.

Sombra’s eyes widened.  This was not going according to the script in her head.  

“Um… not  _ that  _ friendly!” 

Sombra meant to sound curt, and no nonsense.  It would have worked better if her voice hadn’t squeaked in the middle.  Her disconcerted response only seemed to spur the other woman on. With a swiftness that stunned the Talon agent, Amelie Lacroix’s graceful hands slipped over the light body armor that was Talon regulation, and undid clasps and closures, quickly shelling Sombra down to her undergarments before she could stop the other woman.  

“What are you doing?!” the hacker sputtered, trying to keep Amelie from stripping her any further.

“Isn’t this what you came for,  _ amiga _ ?” Amelie bent down so their faces were intimately close.

“You have been watching me, haven’t you?  Watching me sharing my body with my lovers?  Listening to me cry, and beg, and come completely undone?” Amelie crooned, her voice low and suggestive as she slipped her hands caressingly over Sombra’s breasts, teasing the soft swells suggestively, “And you made those pretty little holos of me  _ fucking _ .  Watching them over and over in order to edit those scenes together?  Did you touch yourself? Watching me? Didn’t you want to do more than just… watch?”

“Eeeep!” Sombra’s yelp was cut off by a set of soft, French lips as Amelie kissed her… on the nose.

“Boop!” 

Amelie fell over onto her side, laughing at Sombra’s offended stare.  Which was how Gerard Lacroix came home and found his wife in bed with a female Talon agent.

 

to be continued

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	25. Chapter 25

Tipping the Hourglass 25

 

There is no good way to break a marriage.  Amelie stood between Gerard and Sombra while the hacker girl burrowed under the blankets, hiding in a quivering ball of fabric.

“I didn’t want to do this like…  _ this _ ” her words broke the silence like glass, little sharp shards scattering on the ground.

Gerard’s gaze burned into her, his hands clenched, his eyes so wide, the whites showing, too much emotion running through him to make words.

“I’ve mostly packed.  I won’t be here in the morning.” 

Amelie wanted to look away, but she met his eyes with her own and watched the reality of the situation sink in.  She could see the moment the warmth of his feelings for her iced over. His normally expressive face became blank as a mask, and his words fell from his mouth like paving stones, hard and flat.

“ _ Pourquoi _ ?  Why have you done this to us?  Why now?  _ Tout était parfait _ .  We were perfect together.”

“It wasn’t perfect for me.  Not anymore. I have changed, Gerard.  I loved you, but it’s over now.” her reply was stark and simple, and painful.

Amelie felt cold, a deep chill settling in her bones as her husband, without another word, simply turned and left.  He didn’t bother to slam the entrance door behind him, leaving it to swing in the frigid night air, winter wind easing into the temporary home they shared.  She heard the hard hum of the hover car engine and listened to his leaving, only moving when the last echo faded away. She went to the front room and shut the door and leaned back against it.  Her expression was blank for a moment, before she slid down and felt the strangeness of tears hot on her cheeks. She didn’t love him anymore. So why did her heart hurt?

“Are you… okay?” the words were hesitant, as a fully dressed Sombra poked her head out of the bedroom.  

The hacker wasn’t sure what had just happened.  Well. She knew that Amelie Lacroix had just broken up with her husband.  Which meant her value to Talon had just dropped to nada. Amelie Lacroix without Gerard had no connection to Overwatch.  Well, other than her wild affairs with half of Blackwatch. Sombra was doing recalculations in her head even as she carefully approached the dark haired French woman and reached out a hand.  

“I’m fine.” Amelie spoke softly, taking the warm, offered hand, the tightness of her grip giving lie to her words.  

She stood and stepped forward to press against Sombra’s body, hungry for the heat that the hacker’s smaller, curvy form produced.

“Um…” Sombra put her arms around the taller, more slender woman, not sure what to say, “Sorry?  I didn’t mean to… ?”

“I was leaving him anyway.” Amelie brushed off Sombra’s confused apology, “Better a sudden, hard break.  You can help me get my things moved. You have a vehicle, don’t you?”

“Yes.  But it’s….” Sombra thought about her little utility vehicle.  Talon had provided her with only bare bone basics in the way of support of her lengthy surveillance mission.  She’d “borrowed” local materials to supplement her as weeks had turned to months, while stalking the Lacroix couple from Paris to Bern and Zurich.  

“I don’t have much.  Whatever you have will do.” Amelie moved to her room pulling Sombra behind her, “We should probably get a move on before Gerard realizes there were Talon logos  on your gear. While I can tell him it was just cosplay, he may want to examine them and you up close, and it will turn out to be just a little too authentic,  _ non _ ?  Hurry  _ mon bébé minou _ , no time for play now.”

“Did you just call me your  _ baby kitten _ ?” Sombra protested, not sure how she was now in the position of being Amelie’s fetch and carry girl as Amelie loaded her with boxes, while sweeping up travel baggage.

“ _ Oui. _  I will give you a little treat later.   _ Nous devons nous dépêcher _ .” 

Amelie nudged Sombra into picking up the pace as she said a silent goodbye to the life of Gerard’s wife, Amelie Lacroix.  A sad, but better ending than a murdered husband.  _ Adieu, Gerard Lacroix. _

 

_ *** _

 

Sombra licked her cinnamon cookie ice cream out of the tiny spoon, trying to make sense of what was happening.  After getting Amelie Lacroix’s things over to the Overwatch residence section in the main HQ facility, the now estranged Mrs. Lacroix had directed Sombra to a place called The Midnight Cafe.  It was a little place that was half coffee shop, half gothic vampire role play. But they had amazing hand made ice cream, served in little round scooped balls that were served in waffle cone bowls dipped in dark swiss chocolate.  They came with long, thin handled, hardlight spoons that glowed in the dark, lending an old fashioned rave like ambience to the Cafe, as Eurotrance beat loud and thick through the sound system. The spoon ends were ovals hardly bigger than a pea, and Amelie Lacroix was sucking on hers thoughtfully, her raspberry and passion fruit sorbet was melting into a delicious slush.

“So… You are Blackwatch now?” It was hard for Sombra to wrap her head around the delicate looking ballerina girl being a Blackwatch agent.  The hacker had been dipping into Overwatch’s encrypted systems for a while, she’d seen the other Blackwatch agents. Hardass Gabriel Reyes, pistols blazing, desperado McCree, cyber ninja Shimada, even their new doctor lady, Moira O’Deorain had this creepy, dangerous vibe.  But Amelie Lacroix was like a butterfly among scorpions. Too pretty and delicate. Was she doing this to be near her lovers? 

“Yes.  I don’t get a say in it.” Amelie tipped her waffle bowl so she could slurp the sorbet melt.

“They made you join?  Doing what?” 

Sombra didn’t know why she was hanging out with the other woman like this.  Like they were actual girlfriends. That scene at casa Lacroix had really freaked her out.  The Lacroix woman had really come on strong, like a shot of hard liquor. It wasn’t that Sombra was some kind of virginal, inexperienced, computer nerd.  She’d had her share of lovers. But there was something about this Amelie that felt… weird. Dangerous? Kind of fascinating? So, like maybe she had rubbed one or two out while editing the sexy scenes.  Like she’d admit to that!

“The usual.” Amelie licked the sorbet remains and then began to nibble the chocolate on the waffle bowl.

“Dancing?” Sombra focused on eating her little ice cream balls while they were still firm.

“Killing people.”  Amelie took a firm bite out her waffle bowl.

“Que?” Sombra choked on her ice cream.

 

to be continued

  
  
  
  
  



	26. Chapter 26

Tipping the Hourglass 26

 

“Dance with me.”

Amelie’s words were more order than request, and Sombra pushed the last of her waffle bowl into her mouth, words garbled around the chocolate dipped sweetness that prevented her protests.  There was a retro-remix pulsing through the sound system and bars of light in the purple, pink and blue spectrum strobed on the tiny stage area that was currently empty but for just Lacroix and herself.

_I wanna dress you up in silk, Taffeta_

_Tailor these clothes to fit your guilt, what's your size?_

_This purse can hold my black card and tiara_

_Versace promises I will, Dolce Vita_

Sombra felt Amelie’s breath, warm and moist on the back of her neck as the taller woman ran her hands gracefully just a millimeter above Sombra’s skin, almost but not touching the Latina as she moved to the music with sensual aggression.  Sombra frowned, but wasn’t going to let this ballerina girl be in control. This wasn’t a fancy tutu place, it was more street than swan lake, and Sombra had grown up slipping in and out of retro-raves, street saturnalia, and omnic-centric bash parties since she was in single digits.  Challenge in her eyes she pulled her holo-screens close, then flung them out like her personal constellations. Sombra was the center of the cyber universe, and Amelie was just another tiny light in the night sky!

_What do you wanna wear this spring?_

_What do you think is the new thing?_

_What do you wanna wear this season?_

_Donatella_

_Mi-Mi-Bella_

Amelie laughed at the kitten snarl on the little hacker girl’s face.  Did she think Amelie only knew one kind of dance? She cross trained in dance since her legs could barely wobble underneath her.  While ballet was the heart of her being, Amelie had explored many genres so she could stretch her body to its full potential. She stepped into the swirling motes of light and became the canvas they painted, sinuous as a serpent, sensuous as a succubus, her hands skimming gracefully, suggestively, over small but perfect breasts, teasingly over the shimmy of her hips, dipping wantonly along inner thighs.

_'Cause she walks so bad, like it feels so good_

_Listen to her radiate her magic_

_Even though she knows she's misunderstood_

_Voodoo, Voodoo, Voo-Don-Na-Na_

Sombra and Amelie fit together, and pulled apart, both seemed part of a greater whole, blending styles and coming together at the end of the music.

_Walk down…_

Sombra panted as they struck a final pose, becoming aware of the small, scattered crowd of watchers in the cafe, clapping and using their personal coms to capture them in holo-vids.  She was suddenly conscious of her Talon logos on her outfit, and pushed Amelie’s tall, elegant and far too photogenic form off the little stage and back into the shadows.

 

***

 

“ _Mujer está loca_!” Sombra growled as she let Amelie out a short walk to the Overwatch facility.  “And I’m even crazier for hanging out with her!”

From the way Amelie was giggling, one might think they’d been cruising bars together, instead of ice cream cafes.  The silly ballerina didn’t seem to realize Sombra was a dangerous Talon operative. Sombra hadn’t even gotten to the _‘you do me favors and I don’t let the world know your secrets’_ spiel.  Wait! She hadn’t gotten to do her blackmail!   _Dios! Estúpido!_

Amelie was already at the doorway to the HQ, squinting down at the security scanner as it read her retina, palm on the hard light scanner that read her identity.  Sombra cleared her throat, not sure what to say now that she caught up with Gerard Lacroix’s wife.

“We’ll have time to talk later, _chaton de chéri_ .” Amelie didn’t turn around, “You and I have unfinished business.  I think you find we can be mutually beneficial to each other, _mon petit minou.”_

_“_ Who are you calling a baby kitten!?” Sombra’s outrage was mostly empty, but her confusion was all the way full.  

“Call me later.” Amelie slipped into the Overwatch doorway, not even looking back.  “We will talk, kitten. _Adieu_.”

Sombra stared at the closed door for a long moment, then slid into the shadows, cursing under her breath.

To be continued   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> music - Donatella - by Lady GaGa


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 80s montage time!

TIPPING THE HOURGLASS 27

 

Amelie threw herself into the training with Blackwatch. Days became weeks. Sparring with Genji and McCree. Making herself available to Moira, with encouragements on the doctor’s research. She offered herself as a test subject. Trusting that, having attained Moira’s affections first would make her more… careful with such a perfect physical specimen. The former ballerina was a truly unexpected prize. Moira appreciated Amelie’s belief in her work and began to take time designing the improvements she had planned for Gabriel Reyes and his super soldier enhancements, and her new lover, who was somehow also becoming a friend and confidant.

New, exciting ideas made the red haired doctor almost giddy. The respect and support of the scientific community might have been ripped from her, but having two fellow Blackwatch members showing her their interest and giving her their trust, their very selves to use in her experiments that her former peers had denied her, gave Moira a deep sense of satisfaction and stability she had never felt before. Even if the Overwatch Head Medical Officer, Mercy was often an obstacle, Moira weathered it with more good will than she might have. No doubt in part because their personal, more private relationship had grown in leaps and bounds since their New Year’s Eve encounter. Moira, even with the ethical and legal roadblocks she had to constantly weave around, was strangely happy. Frustration that had become bitterness in another lifetime, was now simply a challenge that she eagerly met head on.

Though she knew it not, Moira was now, subtle influence by subtle influence, a more empathetic person, more connected to the people she worked with, and worked… on. She was developing a great deal of… fondness, for her subjects. Risks she might have taken without second thought to speed her work she now found the extra moments to examine and minimize. These wonderful subjects that placed themselves under her power were more than just experiments. They were her friends.

***

Amelie was becoming more and more field ready with each passing day. She found even the time spent with Ana helped improve her marksmanship while under exacting circumstances. The older sniper was as precise and as painful as an experienced, supple cane whip to tender flesh. The Egyptian didn’t like Amelie, but she had a use for the younger woman. She treated the French woman like a weapon, cared for to the extent it would perform well under fire. The tension between them only grew more taut, but they learned each other the way only those who were a threat to each other’s life could. It was more intimate than being lovers in it’s own way.

As for actual lovers, Amelie found Moira was becoming more monogamously involved with Angela Ziegler, while Gabriel Reyes as Blackwatch Commander had many duties that kept his presence with the team more minimal, much less any private time with herself. He was often with Gerard Lacroix helping with the setup of the Rome facility. In an ironic twist, Gerard was spending more quality time with Reyes than she was.

Gerard had learned of her Black Watch status with a certain amount of grace. Their immenant divorce was a minor scandal, but for the best. Both of them put their best face forward. She did not ask for alimony, and Gerard did not contest the dissolution of their marriage. It was a cooly civil, bloodless break. When they had to see each other, each was exquisitely polite, even if the temperature seemed to drop to glacial climes.

Overwatch command, including the new head of anti-Talon operations, had more important things to focus their attentions on. Attacks on Overwatch agents and facilities world wide had taken a great uptick. It was early February, when the worst of the attacks was on everyone’s lips, the bombing of the Oslo facility. So many casualties, and deaths. By then, Gerard had moved to Rome, and Amelie knew it was nearly time for the fateful explosion there as well.

She puzzled what or if she should do anything about what she knew. Sombra had not contacted her again after their night out. Amelie did not doubt the little hacker was perplexed, and would eventual seek out answers to her no doubt many questions. It was her nature. Amelie had realized it had been fun simply spending time with her once and future team mate. The realization had made her question things about her conditioning, and the differences in her now with only her memories of another future. She knew making a connection with Sombra might be beneficial in many ways, not the least to make introductions to persons who would be becoming more powerful in Talon.

If she wanted, she knew now she could have a completely different life, one without being part of Talon. But she also knew her current existence was not completely safe. Not with Ana’s executioner’s eye on her. As well, she knew Talon was slowly clawing its way into Overwatch, and somehow, it would rend apart the foolishly heroic organization, one way or another. She did not know how Gabriel became Reaper, or how Moira was also brought into Talon ranks, and she had strange feelings for them now that she dared not examine to closely. She needed to keep her options open. She needed alliances in place to give her added strengths and resources. So many things were on the cusp of shaping the destiny of Overwatch and Talon, and through them both, the world. How her destiny would woven between all of that was still in question. Spider silk webs, so strong, so fragile.

To be continued


	28. Chapter 28

TIPPING THE HOURGLASS 28

 

Amelie discovered she enjoyed cross training with her fellow Blackwatch members  Genji and she trained with martial arts, knives, swords and shuriken. One of her favorite activities with Genji was what he called The Art of Anything and Everything, where they would go to random rooms in random places and be creative on using anything and everything in that room as a weapon.  From pillow cases to paperclips, oranges to olives, chairs, plates, silk scarves and toothbrushes.

Ana would take her on shooting trips.  No more easy, standard sniping. Ana had Amelie shooting while in motion, and at active targets that not only were trying to evade her, but shooting back.  Jesse was joining them more often. Amelie was learning to work in tandem with the pistol toting cowboy, when they were not using each other as targets in games of bullet tag.  It had become a game with them to try and ambush one another.

Then there was time spent with Moira, lending herself to the geneticists work, pouring encouragement and ideas into the scientist’s ear and allowing Moira liberties.  Well, scientific liberties. Moira was still willing to flirt, but she now saved her amorous pursuits for Angela Ziegler. The Overwatch Head Medical Officer kept a gimlet blue eye on Amelie now, much to the Blackwatch sniper’s disgruntlement.  Ana was bad enough, but she had no idea why Angela was also watching her as if she were a ticking time bomb.

Time bombs.  She knew the explosion that would take out the Rome facility would happen soon.  Any day now, she knew Commander Reyes and Jesse were going to Rome to speak with Gerard about the findings on the Oslo incident.  If the events of the timeline she knew held true, they were in danger. Afterwards they would go after Antonio Bartalotti. Reyes would shoot him down in cold blood, starting an escalating incident that would lay Blackwatch bare to public outrage and lead to the fall of Overwatch.  But… what if someone were to execute Bartalotti without it becoming the scandal that would throw a hard, bright light into the shadows of Overwatch black ops? What if someone were to make early alliances with those who would benefit from the heavy handed man’s removal from Talon elite?

It was time to take a trip to Casino Monaco and talk to Maximilien.  Gerard had one very good idea on dealing with Talon after all. Go after the money. 

 

***

 

Amelie knew Sombra was less likely to make physical contact in or near the Overwatch HeadQuarters, so she decided to draw out her reclusive voyeur.  Most likely Sombra had followed Gerard to Rome, as he was most likely her primary target. However Sombra liked to have her finger in everyone’s pie, so Amelie didn’t doubt the hacker was jacked into various systems locally even if she was physically absent.  One system the new Black Watch agent was willing to bet Sombra was connected to now. How fortunate the owner was someone Amelie knew from her former ballerina days.

“Manon, cherie!” Amelie air kissed on each side of a soft, rose scented cheek, “I thank you for indulging me.”

The older woman smiled at her former student.  Manon still held the remains of a once spectacular beauty.  She could easily pass for a well maintained 40 year old, still a head turner, with platinum gilt blonde hair held in a smooth bun, and a face only gently lined, instead of the far side of 60 that she now was.  A lifetime dancer and performer. Once she’d mesmerized audiences from Paris to Tokyo, sold out venues in New York and Las Vegas, and performed for private, exclusive parties in Dubai.

“It is good to see you, my little thorn flower.”

Manon Deneuve smiled up at Amelie, her hover chair quietly humming in the background.  The Midnight Cafe’s owner had no regrets, even after a disastrous accident that left her paraplegic, unable to move anything from the waist down.  She would not have given up a second of the life she’d led, for Manon had LIVED as vividly as anyone could claim, enough for a dozen lifetimes.

“I have the videos of you and that cute little Talon girl in frequent rotation on our inhouse holosystem, and on our world web suite.  Someone keeps trying to erase them from the system, but we keep external back ups, make copies, and reload as often as it takes. I’ll be happy to add new material if that is what you are here for.  I’ve had them set up the silks on the stage, all you need to do is go to them. We will stream it live, then on repeat with the dedication you specified, _To Olivia with Love,_ so mysterious!  Have you found a girlfriend, my bramble rose?  I thought you had married that Gerard fellow. He certainly sniffed around you when you were barely even legal, far more than was appropriate for a man his age.  I was half a mind to send the _gendarmerie_ after him.” 

“I’ve parted from Gerard.  As for my romantic life, _aimer, ce n’est pas se regarder l’un l’autre, c’est regarder ensemble dans la meme direction._ I’m hoping… to find a few like minded persons to share my time with.  For now. Who is to say what will happen along the way?” Amelie shrugged, but with a sly smile to her host.

“Incorrigible bebe.” Manon scoffed as she nodded to the stage that Amelie had once shared with Sombra, now empty but for long, thin lengths of fabric suspended from the ceiling.  “Show me how you have grown as an artiste. I know it’s been sometime since you danced the silks.”

Amelie shrugged out of her coat and shoes.  She wore the sheer, nearly revealing bodysuit that hinted at what it hid, erotic innuendo.  Her feet were bare, pale, and stepped to the silks. When she had her grapple line she’d sometimes played with it, using her skills with aerial silks to add to her assassin’s repertoire.  These silks were vivid scarlet, and contrasted well with the black sheerness of Amelie’s bodysuit, her pale skin and dark hair. She was not the superluminal performer Manon had been on the silks, but she didn’t suck.  Amelie knew how to give a visually beautiful performance. She trusted that Manon would use her magic with cameras to show the artist in the most elegant and lovely way. When Sombra checked in to try and wipe the video of her dancing with Amelie Lacroix again, she’d find a pretty eyeful.  That and the dedication would move her to make contact. Amelie worked her way up higher, and began to dance in the air, the silks were her partner and she let them wrap her, support her, move with her.

 

***

 

Baptiste peeked over Sombra's shoulder.  She was cursing in a low voice as her fingertips danced over the lavender holo-keys that hovered in front of her.

"Your girlfriend is so… flexible.  I'm jealous."

"She's not my girlfriend!" Sombra growled, "And privacy!"

"If you protest so hard, she must be special." Baptiste laughed, "And I saw you dancing with her in that video you can’t erase.  You never danced with me like that."

"Snoop much?  I don't dance with you like that because you are hopeless.  You dance like a grandpa! Moonwalk? _¿Disculpe?_ It’s an embarrassment to go with you to the clubs." Sombra groused as she read the dedication again with a sinking sensation in her belly. 

How did this woman know her _real name_ ?  And damn if Baptiste wasn’t right, Amelie Lacroix was too damn flexible.  She watched as the holo recording replayed the dark haired French woman inverting herself, only twists of scarlet silk in her hands holding her weight as legs gracefully parted into mid air splits.  Was this some sort of weird come on? Was she being propositioned? Was this a blackmail attempt? The nerve! Sombra was the _blackmailer_ , not the _blackmailee_.  Either way the message of get your butt over to talk with me was clear enough.

Sombra quietly fumed.  She’d turned in her report on Gerard LaCroix just days ago.  After nearly a year, watching a man who made watching paint dry exciting in comparison, she had been looking forward to having time to herself.  She’d planned to bury what had occurred with her and Amelie Lacroix and forget about it. Except that holo of her dancing with that woman wouldn’t die and stay buried!  If any Talon high up caught sight of that and linked it to her, she would be in so much hot water! She wasn’t supposed to make direct contact with the mission targets. Worse, it looked like they were in collusion.  She had to put a stop to this!

Sombra checked her calendar again.  Talon had her on furlough for at least another week.  A reward for doing her job so thoroughly. She’d put together an extensively comprehensive report on Gerard Lacroix, from the man he was, to the actions he’d taken to secure his position in Overwatch.  She’d included his married life and that his wife had left him after he’d been confirmed as the new anti-Talon task force leader, and the commander of the Rome facility. She hadn’t put in information about the same woman joining Black Watch.  For some reason she couldn’t even explain to herself, she’d felt a strange connection with Amelie Lacroix.  

Time for a little road trip.

 

To be continued

 


	29. Chapter 29

TIPPING THE HOURGLASS 29

 

She was dancing alone, just moving to the music.  No silks or other special extras, the little stage was nearly empty at 3am on a Monday night.  She wasn’t surprised when a familiar presence slid behind her. She knew Sombra’s scent, and the sound of her breathing.  The first was faint, but memories of the cinnamon and peppery spices was indelibly etched into Amelie’s memory, the second was something she’d become used to on long missions in confined spaces.  Experience warned her that Sombra was probably trying to startle her with a sudden appearance.

“Miss me?” Sombra’s words were spoken directly in her ear, the hacker so close Amelie could feel the latina’s body heat permeate her back.

She stepped back so they snugged together and purred “You must like me, _minou._ ”

Sombra stepped back quickly, frowning.  “Actually, I don’t. Are you _trying_ to get me killed?”  

“Would I do that to my best amiga?” Amelie laughed.

“Would you?” Sombra demanded, pouting.  

The music changed from the euro trance track pumping through the in house system, bleeding into classic sounds of violins and piano, and Amelie mentally tipped her hat to Manon.  She knew this piece well enough to sing the opera in her native tongue.

 

**_Sous le dôme épais où le blanc jasmin_ **

[Under the thick dome where the white jasmine]

**_À la rose s'assemble, Sur la rive en fleurs,_ **

[Assembles at the rose, On the river bank's flowers,]

**_riant au matin, Viens, descendons ensemble._ **

[laughing in the morning. Come, let's descend together]

**_Doucement glissons; De son flot charmant_ **

[Gently, let's float on its charming flood]

 

“Hey!  I don’t speak that fancy pants French!” Sombra protested, while Amelie just smiled and kept singing.  

She was no opera star, but her soprano voice held true.  She’d done her share of singing and music lessons as a girl.  Her mother had made sure Amelie would have all the basic graces due a young lady of class and good breeding.  This had been a recital piece when she was twelve, a duet with her best friend Danielle. They had both practiced it till it rang through their dreams.  It had been one of her mother’s favorite pieces from Lakme, the Flower Duet.

 

**_Suivons le courant fuyant; Dans l'onde frémissante,_ **

[Let's follow the fleeing current, On the simmering waves]

**_D'une main nonchalante, Viens, gagnons le bord_ **

[With one careless hand, Come, let's reach for the bank]

**_Où la source dort. Et l'oiseau, l'oiseau chante._ **

[Where the source sleeps. And the bird, the bird sings]

 

To Sombra’s dismay, and discomfort, Amelie closed the distance between them sang directly to her, circling the latina hacker, her finger tips gently grazing where Sombra’s outfit exposed warm, tanned skin.  The Talon agent had decided on discretion, and was dressed in dark violet and black leather halter top and micro skirt. She had chosen the most gothic looking outfit in her closet, and had considered her old Los Muertos glow in the dark make up, but she didn’t want to stand out.  She wanted to blend in. Not that she needed to bother, with how deserted the… Hey! It really was deserted. There had been a few people eating ice cream when she’d entered, but now it was only her and Madame Lacroix.

 

**_Sous le dôme épais, Sous le blanc jasmin,_ **

[Under the thick dome, Under the white jasmine]

**_Ah ! descendons ensemble !_ **

[Ah! Let's descend together!]

**_Mais, je ne sais quelle crainte subite, S'empare de moi,_ **

[But, I don't know what sudden fear seizes me]

**_Quand mon père va seul à leur ville maudite;_ **

[When my father goes alone to their cursed city];

 

Sombra’s danger sense was screaming Set Up!  But she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what kind.  Was the ballet dancer trying to entrap her somehow? By singing to her?  And why did this music sound so familiar? It was making her feel weird. She didn’t listen to opera if she could help it.  Not that she wasn’t cultured, she knew high brow stuff when she encountered it, and with a little exposure could fake interest and knowledge in order to get close to a mark.  Research took her to all sorts of interesting places, and sometimes she had to go in Real Life instead of letting her cyber skills get the info she wanted. She knew this piece though, and for some reason it felt like Amelie Lacroix was… trying to seduce her?

 

**_Je tremble, je tremble d'effroi !_ **

[I trembleI tremble from fear!]

**_Pour que le dieu Ganeça le protège,_ **

[So that the God Ganesha protects him,]

**_Jusqu'à l'étang où s'ébattent joyeux les cygnes aux ailes de neige,_ **

[Until the pond where swans with snow-white wings play together joyously.]

**_Allons cueillir les lotus bleus._ ** **  
** [Let's go and pick blue lotuses.]

 

“Are… are you making a pass at me?!” Sombra asked as the music slid into a current popular love song, remixed with a techno dance beat, and French woman stopped singing.

And that’s when it hit her.  She knew the music from a really super ancient, vintage vampire film.  An old 2D piece that was literally last century, in the later part of the 1900s.  She’d actually watched it when she was just a teen and having to lie low after a Los Muertos raid on a military weapons stash had gone _loco mal._ She had been stuck in one of the more primitive Los Muertos hideouts.  No world net signal. It was from before she had the cyber implants put into her, before her now constant satellite uplink.  Most of the telltale marks that she was cybernetically enhanced were hidden beneath her flesh. The few that had to ride the surface were hidden under her club leathers.  

Los Muertos little backwater hidey hole was meant to pass beneath the notice of any Worldnet scanning.  The highest level of entertainment tech in the place had been Video Tape. Actual physical magnetic tape.  It connected to the video player unit with thick old school cables, plugging into sockets that needed an adaptor to even work with the slightly less ancient, but still completely physical, video screen.  No Holo. No 3D. How had people LIVED pre-millenia? It was like the Dark Ages. As the days passed, she’d needed a distraction like an addict needed his fix.

So she’d hooked the ancient tech together and watched the video tapes.  Old science fiction that was truly laughable in how inaccurately it portrayed _the future_ .  Rom coms that showed not a lot had changed in plotline or structure of shows despite the difference in the tech that played them.  And horror movies that, for just being 2D, sucked her in enough to make her jump. And among the movies was what was considered a cult classic.   _The Hunger_ .  It had that singer the _bisabuela_ set had been totally gaga over.  The one whose name was a knife. Bowie.  Yah, Dirk… Dan? David Bowie? Yeah him and the chick from Rocky Horror Picture Show.  Now that was pure classic! Let’s do the Time Warp again! Sombra was shaken out of her mental wanderings as soft lips dropped kisses on her bare shoulder, leaving dark blue lipstick prints on her caramel complexion.  

“What are you doing?” Sombra squeaked, then coughed to cover how her voice had betrayed her.

“Bringing you back to the moment, _minou._ I think I lost you there for a moment.” Amelie’s lips quirked into a sly grin.  

“You are trying to seduce me!  I saw _the Hunger_!  I know where that music was from, and if you think I’m going to let you suck my… my… suck my blood…!”

Amelie couldn’t help the laughter that spilled out of her, while the latina girl scowled at her.  

“Oh… oh my!  You take me for… a vampire?”

“Hey if you look the part…” Sombra gestured to the period piece costume Amelie had on.  

Amelie gave her an elegant, sweeping bow, before standing up straight and striking an arrogant, noblewoman’s mein.  She was wearing an outfit from an experimental ballet of a choreographer friend. It had never been put on stage, but she’d kept the costume.  She had loved the way it looked on her, this form fitting, exquisitely comfortable, yet intimidating hunters’ riding habit for a bygone era. It was masculine in make, but left no mistaking her female form.  She relaxed with a soft sigh.

She would have liked to have performed Jean Luc’s ballet.  He’d told her the story of the Huntress, and something in it spoke to her heart.  At least she finally had the opportunity to wear it. It fit perfectly with the Gothic LARP atmosphere of the Midnight Cafe.  

"We would make a pretty picture, non?  You, so curvaceous and hot blooded, and I… "Amelie`s voice dropped to a seductive whisper as she slid suddenly close to the now shivering Sombra, "I… with my lips gently kissing your bared throat, licking that delicate throb just beneath your skin.  Where else would you let me kiss? Let me lick? Let me taste you…"

 

To be continued

  



	30. Chapter 30

Tipping the Hourglass 30

 

Sombra swallowed hard.  It took an effort of will not to wiggle, as she felt places south go very warm and tingly.  No. no. nooooo. She was not here to get entangled with Amelie Lacroix. She was here to find out how the Blackwatch agent knew her real name.  Hell, how she knew anything about Sombra period! This french woman was going to get her in trouble. So much trouble.

“There will be no tasting!” the Talon agent said firmly, relieved that Amelie Lacroix merely smiled and stepped back.

“ _Désolé_ ” Amelie’s glance was like a caress, as she led the way to a shadowed corner where a table waited. 

Sombra jumped as a wait staff omnic glided up silently and placed the same order she’d gotten the last time in front of her on the table’s surface.  It was disturbingly intimate. The stealth agent tried to shake off her nerves. She felt jumpy as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.  Amelie was already delicately licking her spoonful of what appeared to be a dark red sherbert. Yes, definitely an erotic vampire like vibe. No wonder she knew where hidden treasures like the Midnight Cafe were.  A shiver went through her as the french woman’s soft lips closed over a mouthful of sherbert and a pleasured moan escaped her.

“ _Amaretto_ ...” she sighed, eyes closed, “the word means a little bitter” but the liqueur is sweet to the taste. 

Under half lidded eyes, the self professed assassin watched Sombra suddenly focus on her ice cream, avoiding the Blackwatch agent’s far too seductive regard.  It was amusing to see Sombra so put out. The information specialist normally was smug and self assured, certain she held the winning cards in a life long game of chance.  But that was an older, more seasoned version of the woman Amelie once knew. This Sombra was still achingly young, and yet uncertain in situations where she did not know all the secrets she sensed hiding almost within her grasp.  But her hunger was the same. More raw, and less refined than in the future, but the burning _need to know_ was there. 

“So what’s this about?” Sombra’s nonchalant question would be more convincing if she could tear her eyes up from her delicious treat and meet Amelie’s intense gaze. 

“It’s about power, _mon petit minou._ ” the french woman spoke softly, “Those who have it.  Those who want it. And those who can facilitate the exchange.”

“Let me guess.  You think you can facilitate the exchange of power?” Sombra’s lavender gaze finally rose to meet Amelie’s almost golden eyes while light incredulity dripped from her words.

“Yes.” Amelie licked the crimson stain of her amaretto sherbert from her lips, “And you could reap the gratitude of powerful individuals in Talon with me.  All you need to do is arrange… a few introductions.”

“You think I can do that?  Introduce you to powerful Talon members?  Hah! This reeks of entrapment! You openly claim to be Blackwatch, but you want to curry favor with Talon elite?  Why should I trust you in the least little bit?” Sombra’s voice was angry, as logic told her this was a trap after all. 

A very clumsy, obvious trap.

“Olivia, trust in me.  I can help you achieve your own goals, if you will help me achieve my own.”

“Shhh!  Don’t say that name!” Sombra hissed, eyes darting around them, not any less paranoid for the seemingly deserted room.

“I am sorry, _chaton bébé_ .  I didn’t mean to upset you.” Amelie spoke soothingly, “What I ask should be easy for you.  Truly. I just want to speak to Maximilien. Privately. We could enjoy a lovely holiday in Monaco.  Wouldn’t you like that? You and I? A little gambling? Arrange for me a _tête à tête_ with Maximilien.  He will be grateful. _I promise_.”

“What?  Are you planning to seduce the omnic?” Sombra’s words were mocking, almost a sneer, until she saw the contemplation in the other woman’s pale, whiskey colored eyes.

“ _Dios_!  It would nearly be worth it just to see you try.” Sombra muttered.

“There’s the spirit, _mon chaton_!”

Amelie’s slight, seductive smile made something in Sombra’s heart flutter madly.  This was beyond a doubt, a bad idea. A very, very bad idea. But she knew she was going to do it anyways.  Playing it safe? Where was the fun in that? Besides, she needed to get to the bottom of Amelie Lacroix, and her disturbing knowledge of Sombra.  A little alone time in Monaco, on Talon’s home ground, would be just the thing.

“Also, I would like to meet one other individual.” Amelie smiled sweetly, watching Sombra’s mouth still around the bite of ice cream she’d finally allowed herself to take, “If it’s not too much trouble, I would like to speak with Akande Ogundimu.”

“The mercenary?  Why? He’s just a hired gun.” Sombra asked warily. 

Well, maybe more than a hired gun.  She knew Akande Ogundimu was Doomfist’s protégé.  Akinjide Adeyemi, the Scourge of Numbani, was very taken with his new recruit.  Rumor in Talon, well out of earshot of either mercenary,had it that their relationship was… _very_ special.  Chatter was that Talon had plans for Akande, he was a golden boy to the Talon big wigs.  That Amelie should want to meet with him. It was alarming… and oh so interesting.

“You might say I’m… a fan.” Amelie said with a laugh, “I see great things in Akande Ogundimu’s future.”

“You don’t say.” Sombra’s own gaze had become hooded as she watched Amelie finish her icy treat. 

Amelie Lacroix was becoming even more alarming, and fascinating with every moment.  Maybe fascinating enough for Sombra to dig into even more deeply than she had intended.  Intimacy was a two way street. Even if Amelie Lacroix was only teasing… well… Sombra could throw down with the best.  Maybe the french woman should learn that playing with fire could leave her more than a little singed. Sombra felt something low and deep tighten in anticipation.  This trip to Monaco could be… full of possibility.

 

To be continued.

  


  



	31. Chapter 31

TIPPING THE HOURGLASS 31

 

When she was a young girl, Amelie’s best friend was Danielle Durand.  During the seasons of their teenage years, Danielle grew like a weed, and the gangling colt of a girl at 5’10 was a bit tall for ballet.  Amelie at the time had not grown so fast, and was crushed as Danielle spent less time with her and ballet, and more time in the fashion industry.  5’10” was the perfect height for an aspiring model, and Danielle became Dani Bellamy. Red haired with a smattering of freckles on pale porcelain skin, and pale silver blue eyes, D. Bellamy with her fluid dancer’s poise, was an international hit on catwalks from Paris to Hong Kong.  Dani also married well. More than once. Her latest husband had a yacht that was currently in Monaco. February was off season, and Dani was more than willing to lend Amelie use of the 130 foot long vessel, a gesture of affection for her now retired ballerina friend. Most of the yachts in the marina were under maintenance in preparation for the tourist darling’s high season, that would not begin for a couple of months yet.  

“Fancy digs, what is it your friend does again?” Sombra was trying to act nonchalant, but her eyes were wide as saucers.  

“She’s… _expensive_.” Amelie smiled wistfully and ran her hand against the burnished metal of the wet bar.  

She had hoped to see Danielle again, but her jet set friend was in New York, busy with the Fall/Winter fashion showings that set February buzzing for the winter resort season yet to come.  She had the yacht to herself with Sombra. The latina hacker was now bouncing her bottom on the oversized bed, fingers curling in the cloud like down coverlet. It was fortunate that they could stay here.  Even off season, Monaco was not an inexpensive place. The nightly mooring fee of the yacht was more than the monthly rent Gerard paid on the house in Bern, which itself had not been cheap. But the place to stay was not the most important reason Amelie had reached out to her childhood friend.

Walking with a mild sway, drink in hand, Amelie went to the closet that Dani had described to her.  Danielle had taste as exquisite as it was costly, and her wardrobe reflected that in the shimmer of fabulous fabrics, hand sewn sequins and crystals, delicate filigree lace and semi-precious gemstones, light and airy feathers, a treasure trove of couture.  At the very least, Amelie would look spectacular when she ran into Max. When he assessed the value of what she wore, his optics would spin like a slot machine, and snap stop with twin livre symbols to match his stick pin.

Having newly acquired _The Casino Monaco_ , Maximilien was often on premises, the suave appearance of the mysterious omnic, his bespoke suit and his rumored access to levels of wealth and power beyond the ken of ordinary men made him a figure of dark intrigue.  He had a taste for the rare and exclusive. Amelie meant to register high on both those scales. Sombra had done what she could. Maximilian would know she wanted to speak with him. It was up to her to be so alluring he couldn't resist the opportunity.  

Overwatch had given a few days furlough to every agent not currently on assignment.  The shockwaves of the Oslo attack had been a severe morale drop world wide. Funerals for those who were related or friends to the fallen, and simple time to recuperate for everyone else.  Mortality had never been closer than the latest destroyed Watchpoint, and of course, the Slipstream Project. The time and space travel experiment was dissolved, the tragedy of the lost ship and the oh so young test pilot Lena Oxton had been like a final strike against an already beaten horse.  Another dull ache lost in a sea of pain, tipping the victim past the point of recovery. Amelie wondered how long it would take before Lena’s ghostly presence would begin to haunt Overwatch.

Gabriel Reyes and Jesse McCree would be reaching Rome by now, ready for more collaboration with Gerard.  Any day now, BOOM. Moira and Angela were taking a holiday together. The blonde and red haired doctors were working on their own close collaboration.  Amelie knew their two brilliant minds would create wonders. Each now eager to share bleeding edge scientific input, as well as sweet caresses. Genji had gone to Hanamura, his own ghosts and demons to attend to.  Which left her with Sombra, making ready for the sea change that was to come.

She chose a gown of diaphanous silks in soft sapphire blues and amethyst, the collar high at the throat, glittering with tiny crystals, silks draping low in the back showing a cleavage of another sort.  She was bare beneath the silks, and everyone would know it. The high center slit of the gown flirted with indecency, the beaded, high heeled and strappy gladiator sandals matched the color scheme. She put her dark hair up in a grecian style, and did her make up in translucent, barely there colors, lips a moist and inviting coral, eyes that seemed mysterious under a dark silky fringe of lashes.

Sombra had showered and was in a towel, frowning at the closet.  She was shorter and curvier than Amelie or Danielle. But Amelie had searched the collection for an outfit that would make the latina hacker smile.  Lush dark red velvet, that flared over Sombra’s hips creating the look of an inverted rose in bloom. Sombra’s legs were sheathed in black lace stockings, and feet in red heels edged in black.  Her waist was cinched in a black corset that brought her waist in, and her breasts out like succulent offerings. The dark red fabric was luscious on Sombra’s dark, sun kissed complexion. It left the latina’s shoulders bared, and Amelie drew a finger tip lightly against the line of Sombra’s bare throat.  Sombra shivered, but didn’t pull away as Amelie drew a red velvet choker against the darker woman’s neck. A single golden hoop hung heavy from the velvet.

“Is this a statement?” Sombra asked, tugging the hoop.

“Everything is a statement, _chère._ ” Amelie said lightly, and dropped a kiss on Sombra’s neck. “I just thought my pretty kitten should have a collar, _non_?”

Sombra for once was without words.

Amelie smiled and led the way to their night’s destination, _Casino Monaco._

To be continued

  
  
  
  



	32. Chapter 32

Tipping the Hourglass 32

 

She was easy on the optics.  Maximilien studied the woman with Sombra at the _baccarat_ table.  The so called Blackwatch agent, Lacroix, was tall and slender.  Graceful, as was expected of a former prima. He had felt a certain amount of shock when the Talon intelligence operative had contacted him and asked for a meeting.  Sombra and her talents were known to him, but he had been surprised this Lacroix knew of him. Or rather, that she knew he was interested in rising in the Talon hierarchy.  She was the soon to be former wife of Gerard Lacroix. However from all reports, Gerard didn’t share pillow talk with his beautiful wife. Especially now they were to be parted.  The only thing keeping them from having their marriage completely dissolved, was that Gerard was asking the church for an annulment. He was a good Catholic, and didn’t want divorce to stain his reputation, or prospects for another marriage.  A divorce would have been swifter, but the church liked to take it’s time, even if the petitioner was the new head of Rome’s Overwatch base.

At first it was unfathomable to Maximilien that Amelie Lacroix, an _étoile_ of the Paris ballet, would leave a husband whose own star was on the ascendant in Overwatch.  Especially after she had given up her place on stage, in order to be his _petite femme_.  Looking at her in the flesh, he could sense this woman was no man’s plaything.  She was vibrant. Openly sensual, dressed in nearly see through silks that dared the viewer to worship the perfection they clung to like jeweled mist, accentuating and caressing every delicate curve and valley.  This woman was somehow different from the others who swanned through in their designer gowns, dripping with wealth and privilege, chasing thrills and oblivion. Could she really be the expert killer Sombra claimed she was?  And how exactly could her skills benefit Maximilien? He sighed. Curiosity was his begetting sin.

The minimum bet at the table was a hundred euros.  The pile of chips in front of Lacroix was small, but growing.  She pushed three of the hundred euro chips onto her chosen bet. 

“Banco”

Maximilien liked the sound of her voice.  It buzzed pleasingly through his audio receptors. 

The dealer turned over two cards for banker and player.  Ace of clubs, nine of hearts for the banker, king of hearts and jack of clubs for the player.   _Baccarat_ , zero points for each.  The dealer dealt a third card for the player, six of hearts, and a third card for the banker, seven of clubs.  Banker winning seven over six. Lacroix pulled the three hundred euros in winnings, minus the banker’s five percent, to her pile. 

“Let me do one!” Sombra was leaning over the table with excitement, almost bouncing in her red heels.

Amelie pushed three of the hundred euro chips to the hacker.  Sombra bit her lip, and pushed two of the chips on banker, and one on tie.  The dealer turned over the cards, four of clubs, 5 of hearts on player, a natural nine, ten of hearts and nine of diamonds on banker, another nine.  Tie. The dealer took the banker bet, and pushed eight hundred euro chips to Sombra, plus the one she had bet on the tie. The hacker squealed with glee and stacked her chips, ready to bet on Tie again, but Amelie put her hand over the chips. 

“No more Tie bets, _mon minou_.  Odds are against another tie, you will lose your winnings if you continue to keep betting that way.” Amelie advised, and took three of the chips back.

Sombra pouted, her lower lip plump, jutted out.  She looked very kissable in that moment, but Amelie steadfastly ignored the hacker and placed her bet, once more.

“Banco”

Sombra still pouted, but pushed three of her chips onto the banker bet as well.  This time the banker was a natural nine, the player only seven and they both gathered their winnings.

Amelie had over a thousand euros in chips, which she pushed towards the omnic as he approached.  

“Trade you?”

Maximilien paused, his lucky chip halfway across the back of his hand in the coinwalk that was his habit.  The red of his optics glowed ominously, meeting her pale brown gaze.

“Trying to buy my luck?”

His synthetic voice sent a frisson of electricity through Amelie.  Ah! This was different. She hadn’t had this reaction to him before.  Or at least, not so potent a reaction. There had always been an unusual undercurrent to their interactions.  Before, as Talon’s premiere assassin, she had little time to explore the interest that was between them. How strange was fate, to reacquaint herself with Talon’s most sophisticated omnic leader this way.

“Do you believe in luck, Maximilien?” Amelie reached out to run her fingertips over the human seeming hand, delicately caressing the joints, plucking the yellow chip from him, and bringing it to her lips.  She gave it a kiss, leaving a pale shimmer of coral on the surface, and returning it to the omnic’s palm.

“I believe we make our own luck.” Maximilien replied, his voice smooth even if the flow of energy in his circuits seemed to fizz strangely, “Even with the play of odds, eventually those who continuously push for their desired goals will reap their rewards.”

“Some goals may be closer to being achieved than others.” Amelie spoke casually, “Unexpectedly so.  What would you say one of the greatest obstacles there are to… say... a seat at the highstakes table?”

“As always, there are only so many seats at the table, and a great many well heeled peers waiting to be seated.” Maximilien spoke with dry amusement, but the beginnings of interest were stirring within.

“So, it takes more than mere money or resources to achieve a seat.  Those who aspire to a place among the highest rollers require an… edge.   _Non_ ?  So, the special few who are aware of a _certain_ coming vacancy will have the advantage over the others.   _N'est-ce pas_?” Amelie’s lips curved as she saw the realization of what she was really saying sink into the omnic’s system.

“ _Certain_?” Maximilien drew out the word.

“As certain as the delight of a gondola ride in the canals in Venice.” Amelie spoke with a light tone as she gathered her chips into a silk bag that was in the same gem shades of amethyst and sapphire as her gown.

“I’ve heard some say that Venice is too crowded these days.  A grave problem for those who wish to enjoy _le charme_ of that ancient seat of history.” Maximilien offered his hand to Amelie, which she took with a gracious smile.

“Where some see a problem, others may see _opportunité_ .” Amelie murmured as she allowed the omnic to lead her to a more private venue. 

Sombra watched with a frown, but didn’t follow.  She had done her part, in setting up the meeting.  It was up to Amelie now to make her pitch, whatever it was.  The hacker had concerns, but either Lacroix would be successful, and Sombra would reap rewards for being in on the ground floor, or the former ballerina would go down in flames, and Sombra would keep her distance, and not be any the worse.  At least that was what Sombra told herself.

The private room Maximilien escorted Amelie into was hushed.  The bright lights and energetic gambling of the casino’s main floor was shut out with the best soundproofing money could buy.  These special rooms were meant for only the highest stakes games. Billionaires gambled fortunes by the hour, brokering deals with others of the same standing.  The only other person in the room besides Maximilien and herself was a distinguished man in a white tuxedo. His dark skin like oiled mahogany soaked in the light and returned it with a rich luster.  His frame was gigantic, the imposing body of a body builder in the highest weight class or a barbarian warlord of a bygone age. His dark eyes shone with deep intelligence, and warned his intellect was far more dangerous than the brute strength he possessed.

“Akande Ogundimu,” Amelie held out her hand in greeting, “ _Je vous remercie._ I am honored to have you meet with me.”

 

To be continued


	33. Chapter 33

Tipping the Hourglass 33

 

“The honor is mine,  _ Madame Lacroix _ .” Akande returned the greeting and gestured to a chair at the table central to the room.

He had known Amelie Lacroix was beautiful.  He had researched her when Sombra had contacted him with the meeting request.  Somehow the holos of the ballerina had not brought out the burning intensity of her pale brown eyes.  They were almost golden, like a feral beast of prey. Luminous with both life and intelligence. Nothing he’d found either on Talon’s reports on her or on the world web had indicated she was a dangerous woman.  Yet, in person, he was astonished to sense a kindred spirit. A person with a deep and abiding appetite for  _ more _ , and the drive and tenacity to achieve that ever burning ambition.  Perhaps the hacker girl’s pitch on behalf of the Madame Lacroix had not been the empty hyperbole he’d dismissed it as originally.  He would not even be here if not for the fact he was already here in Monaco, and that Maximilien had decided to meet with her. What business could this woman possibly have with Talon? And why seek out Maximilien and himself?  He finally admitted to himself that he was  _ intrigued _ .   

“Now that you have tasted the realities of true combat, do you miss the professional martial arts competition circuit?” she asked, the genuine curiosity in her voice caught Akande amid his inner thoughts, 

“Yes, and no.  Those were simpler days, and the adulation of the fans is a heady thing, as I am sure you know.” He nodded a head in acknowledgement of her own fame and experience of being the center of attention for a legion of fans.

“But those staged performances, with their rules and regulations… with their  _ limitations _ …  They pale beside real combat’s razor’s edge.  In battle, I have never been more fiercely alive than when there is a threat of real damage, even death.  The consequences of defeat are so much greater, but then so are the rewards. The spoils of war are… sublime.”

Akande let his gaze rest obviously on Lacroix.  The transparency of her dress emphasized her every attribute, which were… very impressive.  The wispy silk seemingly hiding nothing while teasing the viewer with promise of greater delight to come if the silk were somehow torn away…  He shook his head, he was not here for that. No matter how beguiling Amelie Lacroix was, she was still connected to Overwatch. This was probably some ploy of the anti-terrorist group to move against Talon, and Akande personally.  Go after the support, to bring down bigger prey. He would watch his step with Amelie Lacroix. However, once the trap was dismantled, or by some chance were she to prove herself a true ally, only then their relationship might progress to a new, higher level.  Still… It didn’t hurt to look.

She felt the weight of his regard, and took it as her due.  Amelie Lacroix hadn’t dressed to be ignored. It was not a ploy without risk, but she trusted in Akande’s professionalism.  In fact, she was  _ betting _ on it.  These were the true high stakes game, and there were no chips involved.  Only lives.  

“Spoils.  The goal any common mercenary.  Well, Talon is certainly a  _ profitable _ organization.” Amelie let her words take an airy, taunting edge, “If your end game is simply to enjoy a good fight and to become richer, I have no doubt you will be…  _ content _ with your place in Talon.  From what I have heard, your mentor the Doomfist is well satisfied to just be  _ muscle _ .  Akinjide Adeyemi,the Scourge of Numbani.  He will be a footnote in history I suppose.  He has risen as far as he can, and will no doubt be happy with his lot in life.”

“You make it sound petty.  There are worse goals.” Akande’s deep voice rumbled with hints of disapproval.  Who was this woman to cast aspersions on his mentor?

“And is it?   _ Your _ goal in life?” Amelie cocked her head to the side and let her gaze run over Akande, with the lazy consideration of a shopper, evaluating the merits of merchandise, but not being overly impressed, “I suppose being part of the Talon rank and file is…  _ enough _ for some.

The dark haired woman’s last words held a doubtful note, her pale brown eyes held amusement.

“I have greater ambitions.” Akande growled, eyes narrowing, “Those in Talon who work hard, can achieve greatness.”

“Greatness.  History looks at the  _ leaders _ of the winning side as great.  Unfortunately, the higher you rise in Talon, the harder it is to take that next step.  The places at the high table, are full.” Amelie shrugged with Gallic carelessness, “The men and women under the leaders are of course, crucial to their leader’s success, but theirs are not the names emblazoned on the memory of mankind.”    

Akande had no reply to that.  It was true. He had felt for some time that he was stuck in his place in the organization.  As Akinjide Adeyemi had risen in the mercenary ranks of Talon, so he too rose amid the elite of Talon’s fighting forces.  But Akinjide Adeyemi had no drive to go any further.  

“However, life is change.” Amelie smiled slyly, long legs crossed at the knees shifted, baring a smooth creamy thigh as she repositioned herself, “And the brief opportunity provided by fate is for the bold to seize.  You strike me as a bold man, Akande.”

“Indeed.” Max’s synthetic, smooth tones rolled over the senses like a caress.  The omnic had come closer to Amelie during her words with the man who would be called the Successor, “The bold and the brave souls who finding opportunity may make the most of it.  If only such opportunities were not so rare.”

“Sometimes, you have to make opportunities.” Amelie looked up at Maximilien, “Or recognize them when they begin to show themselves.  Sometimes, they are hidden in plain sight.”

“Indeed.” Maximilien’s voice was low as a whisper, but Amelie felt it tease along her auditory nerves like a caress.  

The omnic was not as restrained as Akande.  Maximilien had decided he liked what he saw, enough to indulge his interest.  The under current between them had been a tentative thing, she had not thought to pursue it any further than to hook the omnic’s interest in an alliance.  Yet… something in her perked up in response to his closeness. She scolded herself internally. No need to muddy this interaction. It would be…  _ unwise _ .  

“Earlier you mentioned Venice.” Max spoke thoughtfully while his optics studied the woman who was close enough to touch.  

He was surprised by how much he wanted to touch her.  There was a certain magnetism that drew him to Amelie Lacroix.  It was unusual for him to be so charmed by a human female. Most of his regard was for the flow of currency and valuable assets he was carefully building up for Talon, and himself.  That tingling sense that alerted him to hidden, lucrative potential was sliding through him, like a phantom feline, prowling along his micro-servos and the fine filaments of his nervous system, velvet fur sliding with ghostly sensuality through his very core.

“Venice is very popular.  I would not be surprised that in light of recent events that it became the cynosure of attention from those seeking…  _ solace _ … for recent losses.” Amelie spoke with fingers steepled as if in contemplation.  “Such  _ intense _ regard.  Anything might happen.  Opportunities might arise.”

“And your interest, if such events were to unfold?” Maximilien asked the question she had been waiting for.

“Good will?” Amelie smiled at Maximilien and Akande, “Establishing a starting point for future negotiations.  Perhaps even relations of more  _ intimate _ nature.”

“Amelie Lacroix, who are you really?” Akande asked, his deep voice rumbling almost a low growl.  He was both amused and alarmed by her audacity.

“I am a woman with simple needs.” she answered with her hands resting comfortably on the armrests of her chair.  

“There is nothing simple about you, Madame Lacroix.” the man who would be the next Doomfist spoke with a voice that brooked no argument.  Try again, please.”

Amelie bit her lower lip thoughtfully for a moment before finally answering, “If you would like a more poetic answer...  Consider me… a serpent in the garden.” 

To be continued

  
  
  



	34. Chapter 34

Tipping the Hourglass 34

 

Sombra was enjoying herself.  Despite her concern for Madam LaCroix, the time was passing quickly as she continued to play at the baccarat table.  In her  _ costosa _ gown, she felt like a Bond Girl in spy thriller.  She was winning and losing on pretty much an equal basis, enough that she wasn't in the hole, so it was all good.  Sombra didn't gamble to win money, that was a sucker move. She gambled for the ambience and to people watch. If she wanted money, a good hack, and a pleasant amount of ones and zeros later her e-wallet was full to the brim.  Speaking of people watching, she noticed a commotion near the bar across the room. A small crowd gathered near the holo vid that normally showcased gaming odds for various sporting events. You could bet on anything in Monte Carlo, and people did.  But this wasn't sport scores. Tilting her head, Sombra gathered her chips and sauntered over.

"Breaking news on the explosions that have devastated an Overwatch facility in Rome.  The death count is now estimated at nine and expected to climb as first responders comb through the rubble seeking survivors.  Dozens of injured are being treated at the scene while the more critically wounded are being transported to local medical facilities, including the administrative head of the facility, Gerard Lacroix.  A former hero of the French forces that repelled the Ominic incursions during the height of the Crisis…"

Sombra had heard enough.  She didn't quite break into a run.  The dark haired hacker did move quickly to the private room Amelie had disappeared into with Maximilien.  Sombra didn’t bother knocking, her hand waved over the computer lock and the door slid open, without so much as a whisper of sound.  There were three people inside, two seated, Lacroix and Akande, and one standing… nearly hovering beside the Blackwatch agent. Interesting.  Maximillien seemed rather attentive to Amelie Lacroix. Omnic body language was as easy to read as flesh and blood humans. Maybe more so. Everyone within was now looking at her with surprise.  Irritation on Akande’s part, concern on Max’s omnic face plate, and pure amusement in Amelie’s case.

“ _ Mon minou _ , what has your pretty fur so disheveled?”

“Rome Watchpoint just went Ka-BOOM!” Sombra’s words stilled the expressions on their faces for a moment.  

Then Akande looked pained, Maximillien looked guarded, and Amelie…  She didn’t seemed shocked or concerned.  

“And so it begins.” Amelie Lacroix spoke softly.  

“What begins?” Akande demanded to know.  He was upset, but controlled himself. After Oslo, he wasn’t surprised by the Rome Watchpoint being targeted, but he knew Bartalotti, was playing with fire.  Even Overwatch would be pushed only so far. Then they would push back…

His eyes widened as he realized what Amelie Lacroix had really been promising during the evening’s intrigue.  An opportunity like a shining gold ring, flashing in the air for only an instant.   

“We will meet again.” He stood and claimed one deceptively delicate female hand, kissing it’s back, and departing without another word.  

Maximillien had come to his own conclusions.  Unfortunately it seemed a pleasurable dalliance with the fascinating Amelie Lacroix was not in the very near future.  He gave a gallant bow, and excused himself. Ready to rise in one way, if not another. There would be another day, to explore exquisite exchanges of form and function with Amelie Lacroix.  Another day.

Sombra stared at Amelie as she too finally stood up, prepared to leave.  The black haired witch had expected this! Had known! Her own husband…!

“ _ Minou _ …  do not pout.  Your face might freeze that way.” Amelie smiled gently as she checked her phone. 

She had several  messages. For good or ill, she was still Gerard’s wife by law.  It did not surprise her that she was being contacted. As a Blackwatch member, she knew that it was likely she’d be called in with the rest of the Overwatch, leave was cancelled.  TIme to ready for an off the books firefight. In another life, Reyes had taken the fall for the Blackwatch operation that had ended Bartalotti’s life. To the public, Overwatch had denounced Commander Reyes for his actions, claiming he’d gone rogue.  Privately, it was an open secret that Jack Morrison and other high ups, regularly turned a blind eye to a number of  _ rogue _ operations.  Blackwatch operations.  

Bartalotti’s death was the first falling domino that started a chain of events that lead to an inquest of the entire Blackwatch program, and the turning tide of public opinion of Overwatch as a whole.  It also created a brief power vacuum within Talon. Now, it would be even more brief, as for warned, Akande and Maximillien would even now be taking steps to ensure their rise in Talon. If the seeds she planted tonight bore fruit, it would mean she would not need to murder Gerard to gain her place in Talon’s hierarchy.  Still, Fate was a tempestuous mistress. She would have her way in the end. Amelie only hoped she could change the road she would take to reach her final destination.  

 

***

 

The hospital room was dark, making the sounds of the various monitors seem all the more loud.  Gabriel Reyes sat next to Gerard’s bedside, too exhausted to rest. Angela had already given her prognosis.  Gerard would make a full recovery. For now, he slept the sleep of the righteous, held under the weight of pain medication while his body mended.  It had only been the space of moments that had left Gabriel and McCree safe and sound, laughing and joking outside the new Overwatch facility, when the explosions rocked through the facility.  McCree had run back into the still flame ridden and smoking rubble, with Gabriel and helped drag Lacroix and a few others to safety before the unstable ruins collapsed. A few lives saved against too many still lost.  Anger burned in Reyes, dull and sullen and constant. Anger… and guilt. Guilt that he had buried, but not erased, since he’d lost all sense of reason and fucked Gerard’s wife. Guilt that he’d betrayed a brother in arms in the most basic ways.  Guilt that he’d repaid a man who had saved his life, by lusting for that same man’s woman. Lusting for… and taking. Anger and guilt twisted together in his gut until he had to do something. Something… Anything… to make it stop.  

 

***

 

Jack didn’t give his  _ official _ authorization, but had privately given Reyes the go ahead to extract Bartalotti.  Extract, and  _ interrogate _ .  It was all he needed.  His team arrived at the Venice safe house and set up surveillance at the manor.  Somehow McCree had screwed up his undercover assignment as a waiter at one of the restaurants the Talon operatives liked to frequent.  It didn’t matter. The others in the team had gathered enough intel, and in the meantime they would keep a low profile. Tonight they would execute the plan to take Bartalotti under the cover of darkness.  Once they had him, they would finally get the upper hand they needed to bring Talon down. They’d make Talon hurt the way Overwatch had been hurt. Blackwatch would finally reach out from the shadows and show Talon that they weren’t the only ones  _ not  _ playing by the rules.

“Gabriel…” 

Her voice was soft as silken cords.  Smooth, delicate, deceptively strong.  It wrapped around him like a spider’s web.

“We want him alive, Amelie.”

“ _ Pas de problème. _ ” his team sniper shrugged one shoulder as she closed the distance between them, “He is more in danger from you than I.” 

“Really?” Gabriel’s words growled out low and guttural as he moved away.  She was  _ too close _ to him.  

“Gerard is alive.  He’s taken no permanent harm.  More important to me?  _ You _ took no harm.  I have no vendetta with Bartalotti.  But you?  _ Mon ange des ténèbres _ , I can feel your rage.  Like a caged beast, it sits inside you, seething, and waiting for release.  Do you really think you can take your prey, and not  _ finish _ him?  You can fool others,  _ mon cher _ , but we are too alike beneath the skin.”

Amelie followed as he moved, until despite his efforts, she was pressed against him.  Blackwatch body armour had no right to be so supple and form fitting. She looked too good in her mission gear.  Sleek. Dangerous.  _ Beautiful _ .  Part of him wanted to turn the tables and crush her against a wall, and rip away the layers that protected her from the animalistic desires the curled through his veins like liquid fire.  Just as toxic as his anger and guilt, just as strong as his need to thrust her away from him! He wanted to thrust  _ into _ her, make her submit to his will till she cried out in pain… in pleasure…  Gerard’s wife. Why had he listened to Ana? Why had he brought this poisonous temptation with his team on  _ this _ of all missions?  

_ “Take her with the others.  She’s ready.”  _

Ana had spoken, and he’d done it despite the desperate whispers in his head that this was the last thing he should do.

“Why do you avoid me, Gabriel?  What we have shared cannot be undone.  Gerard is your friend, but he has been seeking an annulment.  It will be as if we were never married. He wants none of me…”

“I want none of you!” Gabriel pushed her away with more force than he intended.  

She fell back, stumbling to keep standing, and failing.  She crashed to the ground. Her amber brown eyes wide, she stared at him, before dropping her gaze and curling into herself on the floor. He might have missed the fine tremble that shook through her for a moment before she stilled the shaking that threatened her focused will.  Slowly she pushed herself up, and without looking back, left the room as silently as she had entered, dark hair trailing behind her like a banner. The proud line of her back, and the subtle sway of her walk drew his eye, the light gleamed on her cheek for a moment only as she passed from sight.  

He had made her cry.   Damn it all to hell. 

He’d find a way to make it up to her.  _After_ they dealt with Bartalotti. Gabriel's anger and guilt still pooled in his gut, no longer burning hot, now it was cold as the vengeance he would bring down on Antonio Bartalotti.  For Oslo. For Rome. For Overwatch. Tonight would be a night of retribution.     

 

To be continued

  
  



	35. Chapter 35

Tipping the Hourglass 35

 

The soft tap of Genji’s cybernetic footsteps slowed as he entered the safe house room they kept their weapons in.  

“You've been crying.” his observation had the edge of an electronic voice modulator.  Angela had rebuilt his voice box, and he could have sounded as he did in the days of being fully flesh.  Omnic workers strived for a pleasant human tone, but Genji sounded more ominously artificial than any pure machine, by choice.  

Amelie ignored the comment and the man as she continued to examine her field rifle’s bore for dust or copper deposition.  She’d cleaned it recently, and practice lately had been in low dust environments, so she didn’t touch her brush. Overcleaning could be just as bad as not enough.  The firearm was Overwatch issue. A far cry from her customised Widow’s Kiss. Still it was a solid, satisfactory firearm. She tried to let the familiar, almost mindless duty calm her spirit.  She couldn’t spare Genji her attention. Not when her throat felt so tight and sore. She didn’t want to confirm his words.

Genji considered the woman before him.  He had listened to Angela vent about Madame Lacroix.  He had trained with her for weeks now, and watched her interact with all of his team members.  She didn’t look like a sex maniac.  

He knew the Overwatch Medical Chief was concerned about her girlfriend, Moira.  But despite Angela’s vocalized fears, Genji hadn’t noticed any lover like interaction between Amelie and the Blackwatch medic.  Not any overt behavior with the rest of the team that would trip any personal alarm. He’d noted her interest in Commander Reyes, but the team leader hadn’t been returning any overtures of affection.  If anything, Reyes went out of his way to avoid the new recruit. It shouldn’t have meant anything to Genji one way or the other, but he found Gabriel Reyes’ actions suitable. Meanwhile Amelie Lacroix was openly separated from her husband, and made no secret of it.  

He’d found the addition to their group to be hard working.  Surprisingly dedicated to her tasks. Her presence was unexpectedly comfortable.  She didn’t prattle. Being quiet as she worked, competent without idle chit chat. It was... restful.  In a way, she reminded him of his brother, Hanzo. There was a similar sense of pride that bordered on arrogance, though she hid hers better than Hanzo.  Perhaps it was because both were expert marksmen, Hanzo with his bow, and Amelie with her rifle. Perhaps it was their nature, each aware of their accomplishments, each... alone.

Amelie Lacroix, save for her interactions with their small Blackwatch team, did not go out of her way to make friends in Overwatch.  He couldn’t cast aspersions since he did not strive for the familiar friendships he observed in other Overwatch members. While he’d grown up as the playboy, a Yakuza family’s spare, second son, he did know his childhood friendships were more artifice than not.  His playmates had been the sons and daughters of his father’s underlings, and they were all to aware of his status. Even in dissolute hedonism, the marks of status held true. It was part of the reason he’d tried to pull away from the Shimada name, and duties. He was the spare, so for a while at least, he could be allowed a little freedom that his older brother could not even consider.  But even a second son could only pull on his leash so far. He too knew something about being alone. 

Genji respected Amelie’s desire to hold herself aloof, and went to his own area where his sword was kept.  His  _ ō-wakizashi _ was meant for close, indoor fighting.  The Shimada family katana remained in the family shrine, waiting for the elder son’s return.  His shuriken gleamed like stars in their cases. His teammates joked that he had an unending supply.  It seemed like magic that Genji never ran out of his razor sharp throwing stars. If only. He began to store his stars on his body, his cybernetics allowing him more secret places to place his weapons.  

“Genji.  If this were a kill mission, instead of an extraction, would it bother you?” Amelie’s voice was a soft lilt, the French accent was pleasant.

She’d given up on her attempts of losing herself in weapon maintenance.  There was only so much she could check and clean before she was doing more harm than good.  Instead she let her amber brown gaze consider her ninja teammate. Genji didn’t speak of his past, but when Talon had sent her to offer his brother Hanzo an alliance, Genji had been covered in her briefing.  She knew he had been raised in a crime family, and trained to kill from an early age. Even though he was Overwatch now, by way of Blackwatch, he was no stranger to murder.

“Why do you ask?  Are you thinking of killing Bartalotti?” Genji asked with a hint of curiosity, but nothing more.  

“If I did, would you stop me?” Amelie asked, head tilted slightly.

“Bartalotti is a criminal who has more than earned his death.  I would not waste tears if he should not make it out of this mission alive.   _ But _ our goal is to take him so that he may be interrogated.  Keeping him alive in order to gain intelligence on Talon may be the greater good.” Genji finished hiding his last shuriken, and sheathed his sword against his back.

“That does not answer my question.” Amelie spoke with a dry wryness, again she reminded Genji of his brother.  

“I suppose it would depend on the moment.” Genji decided, “Now as I have answered your question, will you answer mine?”

Amelie sighed, but a Mona Lisa smile graced her lips, “I suppose it would depend on the moment.” 

 

***

 

As a sniper, she should be somewhere far away covering the team at a distance.  Apparently Overwatch, and by association, Blackwatch, had decided that as a new member on her first mission, she should stay close with her team.  Idiots. Or perhaps Genji had spoken with Reyes about their little talk. Moira kept giving her unreadable glances. Amelie wondered if the doctor was concerned about her presence.  Technically Moira wasn’t a combatant. She was there to keep the team patched up from the inevitable damage they would sustain. If not this mission, than another. For all that, the ominous tanks on her back held the familiar mix of purple and gold that spoke as much of harm as healing.  Amelie knew they were nanites, keyed to Moira’s unique DNA. Only she could disperse them at will, to give or take what she desired. Even though the information was classified, Amelie knew just enough from future dealings to keep her suitably cautious.

Watching Moira drain the Talon guards, Amelie smiled beneath the dark cloth obscuring the lower half of her face.  A gift from Genji. It matched the rest of her dark outfit. Blackwatch seemed to have a theme for black and red, with just minute accents of white.  Ironically, they were almost Talon colors, which had a more predominance of white body armor over black, and minute traces of red. Blackwatch and Talon, like sisters.  It was not difficult to see the similarity. Half the people in this very team were fated to become Talon. The other half could as easily found their way there as well, if destiny had rolled different dice.  The outlaw cowboy, the rogue ninja, it still could happen. Amelie wouldn’t mind staying together with them, as Blackwatch, or as Talon.  

She watched them each take down guard after guard.  Bartalotti had packed his Venice compound with Talon soldiers.  As Amelie remembered from the openly reported aftermath, Bartalotti had everything in Talon’s human arsenal at his disposal, in abundance.  Including her predecessors, a more numerous cadre of snipers, each equipped with wrist mounted grapnel launchers. It was quantity over quality.  They were numerous, and utterly disposable. They were nearly automatons.  

The mass processing of that generation of snipers lacked the distinctive individuality of her customized conditioning.  She had been unique, a prototype. Her success lead to an eager attempt to replicate her with others put through the same ordeals and experimentation used on Amelie.  Talon had found she was not so easily copied. One after another the procedure that had created Widowmaker broke it’s successive subjects. But where she had recovered and was forged into the peerless weapon, her weaker sisters fell, and stayed down.  Whatever had allowed her to regain a sense of self, they lacked. She had killed enough of them to be certain of their inferiority.  

Tonight she might have her chance to match her skills against her forebears.  There was a sense of both excitement and sickness that churned in the pit of her stomach.  She knew that it would be best for Bartalotti to die. But that didn’t mean he had to die  _ here  _ and _ now.   _ He could so easily be terminated in transit, or even during or after his interrogation.  So many possibilities. One death could change everything.

 

To be continued

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	36. Chapter 36

Tipping the Hourglass 36

Bartalotti was a large man.  Mainly muscle, but also the result of very good living.  By all accounts he liked his wine, his fine Italian meals heavy on rich pasta, expensive cheese, and decadently marbled meats.  He had an imposing stature. Dark hair cut short and close to the head on the back and sides with almost military precision. A short but luxuriant dark beard, but no mustache.  A hawkish nose that gave him a predator’s visage. He was obviously cybered, the expensive gleaming appliqué sat on his face quietly proclaiming his wealth and prestige even more than the custom, bespoke tailoring that clad him in a tens of thousands euro suit of the finest materials.  He made Gerard at his best look like a beggar boy in the gutter. His personal fortune was staggering. Including all his corporate world wide holdings, it was rumored he was a Tredecillionaire credit powerhouse. A greater worth than some not so small countries annual gross income. He was practically a nation unto himself.  Was it any wonder he felt godlike? Nothing and no one was beyond his reach. Or so he thought.  

"Good evening Commander Reyes." Antonio Bartalotti wasn’t surprised in the least, and not impressed by the team of Blackwatch agents standing in front of his desk.  

He knew Gabriel Reyes on sight.  Not surprising since Reyes was a well known member of Overwatch during the Omnic Wars.  But Amelie would lay odds Bartalotti had dossiers on each of the Blackwatch members, with greater detail than Overwatch had in it’s official files.  Talon had it’s hooks deep in Overwatch, they just didn’t know it yet.

"Hmph... How will this look on the news?” Bartalotti turned to chuckle darkly at the five persons who’d had the temerity to breach his security, “Overwatch unlawfully abducting a respected businessman?  Even if you take me now, my friends would have me released within the week. All this... theatrics, have been a waste of our time."

His gaze seemed weighted on Gabriel Reyes, dark brown eyes meeting even darker ones, as if expecting a response.  But it wasn’t the Blackwatch leader’s voice that next broke the heavy silence.  

“Why do you assume this is only an abduction?” Amelie’s voice was an unexpected intrusion in the tension.  Her Blackwatch companions turned to her in wary surprise. She was supposed to remain silent. Her presence a shadow to their own.  She was standing the furthest from the target. Reyes was point, Jesse a step behind, and Genji and Moira bringing up the rear. They had almost forgotten her presence, as she kept to the shadows on the far side of the room from Bartalotti.  She’d been told to watch and learn. Instead, she spoke, her french accent curling like smoke through her words, “You didn’t even consider this could be anything else. It’s almost like you were...  _ expecting _ us.”

Reyes’ eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion, "She’s right.  No concern this could be an assassination,  _ and _ an immediate conclusion that this is an Overwatch operation?"

McCree’s teeth clamped on his cigar as he ground out his own dark conclusions, “I have a feeling we’re about to be bushwhacked, boss.”

The sudden blaring of sirens split the night.  Alarm lights painted the courtyard beyond in flashes of red and sudden bursts of white.

The cowboy glared at the target’s smug smile, “This was  _ not  _ the plan!"

Reyes grunted his agreement, "Well, looks like we're going with Plan B."

Moira stepped forward and a haze of purple enveloped Bartalotti.  His eyes rolled up in his head as he slumped to the floor.

“He’s dead weight.  Leave him, or take him with us?” Genji’s cyber voice raised the question that they only had moments to answer.

“Dead weight is right.” Amelie’s voice was almost tender as she sighted down her rifle, and took the shot.

The hole that appeared in Bartalotti’s forehead was almost dainty, a precise round in the front center, but the exit out the back was a meaty spatter, gore spraying the floor behind him.  The sound of the shot wasn’t quiet, but with all the alarms already going off it didn’t really matter. The body lay crumpled on the ground, blood pooling around his head and shoulders, thick and bright.  Like crushed cherries. The smell of bright copper pennies filled the air beautifully as the scent of fresh fired ordinance. Oh! Yes… there it was. That beautiful little rapture that filled her with satisfaction.    

The rest of the Blackwatch members seemed startled, the death of their target now a  _ fait accompli. _

"Lacroix!  What did you do?!” McCree glared at the sniper.  

“Like the rest of you haven’t been killing Talon guards left and right since getting here?  We obviously couldn’t drag him with us without placing ourselves in dire jeopardy. There is no point in leaving him alive, otherwise we might as well not have come at all.  It’s not what we came for, but it will shake up Talon’s power structure. That’s something at least.”

“Enough!  Lacroix, I will deal with you later.  For now let us get out of Rialto with all our hides intact!” Reyes put action to words and headed out.  

There was a great deal of real estate between the team and their extraction point.   With a little luck they might all make it there in one piece. Reyes cursed under his breath.  For a moment, before Amelie had cut in, he’d been considering putting a bullet in Bartalotti’s head himself.  But only for a moment. One thing Lacroix had right, this had the feel of a set up. There was way too much Talon activity in Rialto.  They were blatantly open in the day, walking the streets like they owned them, in full Talon regalia. Now as the night was swallowed with alarms, he knew in his gut they would be facing a lot more than the few guards the had put down to get to Bartalotti.

Beyond the office, the exit loomed like a bank vault.

“Looks like they've got this place sealed tight.” Reyes gave the order for retreat, “Someone start a breach on the front door!  We need to get out of here before the whole base is on top of us."

Genji flowed over the distance like water.  The fluid grace of him worth watching. It was only a moment for him to set the explosive device.

 “Breaching device set, now we wait.“

  
  


_ To be continued _

  
  



	37. Chapter 37

Tipping the Hourglass 37

 

Amelie tried to ignore how rapidly her heart was beating.  The ongoing fire fight through Rialto was a rude awakening on how little control she had over her unmodified body.  The glacial calm she’d taken for granted, melted like a snowflake caught on a curious child’s bare palm. It was different than firing at fixed range targets.  It was different than playing live fire tag with Jesse and Ana. It was terrifying. It was exhilarating. She’d taken grapple holsters off of two of the Talon snipers they’d already downed in their run to the extraction point.  One was hooked to her utility belt, the other fitted to her right forearm like it was made for her.  

She ignored the odd looks her teammates were giving her.  It wasn’t as if they were not already questioning her killing Bartalotti.  All she needed now were venom mines and a helmet rigged for surveillance and she’d be as field ready as she ever was.  Almost. She was making her shots count and going through ammo like water. It sometimes took three, even five shots for the target to go down, but down they went.  Troopers, Enforcers, Assassins, Snipers… One after another, after another. There were just so many of them! The Heavy Assault were the worst, taking the team’s combined fire power to end the threat.  They had gone through only a couple so far, spaced well apart thank the gods. She hated to think of having to deal with more than one at a time.  

“We’re to rendezvous behind the art gallery and await extraction.” 

Moira’s spoke with measured force as Amelie trotted along side their medic.  Moira’s worth in the field had been proven over and over with both her healing at critical times, and draining Talon operatives to thin the herd and provide fuel for more healing support.  It didn’t hurt that Moira’s field outfit looked suspiciously like a pvc fetish Domina outfit. The excitement that bubbled like champagne through Amelie’s blood was going to demand an outlet once the mission was finished.  Since Gabriel had made his feelings clear, that he wanted nothing to do with her on a personal, physical level... perhaps she could persuade Moira to...? Provided they made it out without severe damage or casualty, they could celebrate being _alive_ together. 

As they cut through the main art gallery, Talon troopers dropped from the roof.  Amelie shot her grapple and gained a perch on the central, pillar like sculpture that rose majestically, yet still left considerable room between it’s top spire and the museum’s breathtaking vaulted ceiling.  Oh, it was good to have the high ground. Another assassin was scraping her irritating scythe claws on the walls before leaping on Genji.  

“Assassin's on me!”

Amelie sighted and popped the helmeted head like a bubble.  These wretched girls were too hard to snipe when moving, but when they had their prey down, screeching their hearts out as they went into butcher mode, they made a _parfaite_ target.  As long as you took the shot before they finished and fled.  Genji had taken little harm, but he’d have to buff out the scratches on his outer chassis.  For some reason the assassins and snipers liked to focus on their team ninja first and foremost.  Maybe it was because he was such a big, shiny, cat toy. Amelie banished the idle thought as she leapt down from her perch, first hissing in pain as the shock of landing traveled through her feet, ankles and calves, then chuffing in pained exertion as she ran past downed Talon trooper and enforcer bodies, after the already departing team into the courtyard beyond.  

In another time, the beauty of the venue would have pleased her.  An _al fresco_ dining patio rose up, overlooking the large body of water beyond.  It would be lovely and romantic to have dinner there, while omnic waiters floated about filling glasses of wine and starlight danced on the water like diamonds.  Now it was starkly deserted and would serve as a landing platform for the team’s ORCA. Someone had already shot up the omnic _maitre d’_ for reasons beyond Amelie’s comprehension.  This type of omnic was merely an automaton, it didn’t have self awareness or individuality the way omnics with more sophisticated cores were wont to have.  It wasn’t a person. Perhaps that was why a frown pulled at the corners of Amelie’s mouth. It was such needless waste. Petty vandalism. After all the carnage of the night that she’d taken in stride, she didn’t know why this would bother her, but it did.  

It was a rare moment of quiet, no doubt before another wave of Talon soldiers flooded the courtyard.  Fio had already called in that she was on her way, but was experiencing interference. They needed to hold out just a little longer.  They spread out to the four corners of the patio, scanning entry ways and shadowed areas for incoming troops, occasionally looking to the sky for their pick up or enemy craft.  

“I… have been meaning to have a word with you.” Moira’s soft, _sotto voce_ tone had Amelie tilting her head in question.

“Angela and I…  we are planning to make it official.” 

Moira’s cheeks were taking on a rosy blush that Amelie could see even in the starlight.  The team medic was standing beside her as they faced the water, keeping an eye out for Talon troopers coming in by boat.  

“While we were on leave… I asked her to marry me.” Moira was bright eyed, the unusual awkwardness in her voice couldn’t hide the deeply pleased tone as she spoke.  “She said… she said yes! I… I was hoping you would stand for me... in the ceremony. Amelie… would you be my maid of honor?”

“I… “ Amelie was utterly at a loss for words.  There was a sudden, searing _ache_ in her heart.  Why? Her chest felt too tight to breathe.  This was… This was… She should be _happy_ for Moira.  It was the sensible thing.  Practical.     

“I would be honored.” she managed, though her throat felt oddly pained.   

Amelie smiled faintly at the look of happiness on Moira’s face.  

Then, they spotted boatloads of Talon soldiers headed to the docks, eliminating the need for further, personal conversation.  The sky was also full of dropships, and Amelie began to snipe like her life depended on it. The more Talon troopers she claimed before they landed the less the team would have to clean up on ground.  Oh… Another Heavy Assault. _Parfaite_ .  Just _parfaite._

 

To be continued

  
  
  


 


	38. Chapter 38

TIPPING THE HOURGLASS 38

 

As interrogations went, Amelie had faced far worse.  It was called a debrief, but that wasn’t all it was. Whatever the Overwatch brass wanted to call it, it was still an unpleasant experience.  That Gerard was one of her interrogators was… unfortunate. Jack, Ana, and Gerard like the three heads of Cerebus, snapping, growling, all but biting off the heads of the Blackwatch team once they were back on base.  Each team member isolated, to keep them from collaboration and conspiracy. As if Gabe’s barked orders to not volunteer information, keep answers to yes or no if possible, let him handle things during the ride home, wasn’t already ringing in their ears.  

As the one who’d terminated Bartalotti, Amelie was the focus of attention, in and out of the interrogation room.  Why did she shoot him? Did Gabe or anyone else order her to shoot him? Why did she shoot him without orders? Her grapples were also confiscated and she was questioned about them as well.  Why did she take them? How did she know how to use them? So many questions. Was she seeking revenge for Gerard? Had she planned to kill him in advance? Did she expect her connection to the anti-Talon leader to shield her from the consequences of her actions?  

There were moments when Amelie wondered if they’d simply take her to a deserted dirt patch with a shovel, and be done with her.   They certainly wanted her to have that impression. She tried to appear properly cowed and repentant. Her delicate beauty and sense of vulnerability were weapons she used ruthlessly.  She gave them the willow bending in the storm, her eyes shining with barely shed tears. Of course she was sorry for having killed Bartalotti. She just didn’t know what else to do. There had been so many alarms flashing and blaring…  She’d reacted first, without thinking it through.  

The questions went on and on, repeated again and again in different ways, as if her answers would change if they asked in different words.  She was exhausted, and they used that. She was still shaking with the fall off of adrenaline and her body and minds delayed reactions from the ongoing firefight and final extraction.  They gave her no rest, and she felt her nerves rubbed raw as they went over events both singly and in groups. Could the team have dragged Bartalotti along with them to the extraction point without severely compromising their own personal safety?  Why not simply leave him, alive?

At the end, Amelie had to ruthlessly smother the fit of hysterical laughter that she felt welling up inside.  She was alone now with Ana, but she didn’t doubt that others were watching beyond the mirrored wall of the interrogation room.  Ana was playing the reasonable superior, the disappointed mentor. The questions were the same again, but delivered with Ana’s dry reproach.  Why didn’t Amelie just leave him alive?  

Amelie wanted to point out the simple logic, that Bartalotti was pure viper.   If he hadn’t been killed, he would assuredly retaliated for their assault in the worst of ways.  You didn’t leave an enemy like that at your back. But that would not have been the right answer for the self righteous Overwatch.  So, holding onto herself tightly, eyes downcast, she breathed out in a soft voice.

“All this time training in Blackwatch, I have been training to  _ kill _ .  It’s my function.  My purpose. It’s what you wanted me to do, isn’t it?” raising her eyes to Ana’s, Amelie laid the blame back to her so called mentor.  “I didn’t want to be a killer, Ana, but you told me you would put me down if I didn’t play for team Overwatch. If I didn’t shoot for Blackwatch.  A gun and bullets are the tools you’ve given me to work with, Ana. Why did you do that if you didn’t want me to kill for you? I just did what I thought you wanted me to do, Strike Commander Amari.  I did it for you.”

 

To be continued.       


	39. Chapter 39

Tipping the Hourglass 39

 

It felt like days before she was finally dismissed.  Amelie was ordered confined to quarters. She didn’t care.  She simply wanted to collapse. The officially unsanctioned mission was being buried as best it could.  There were uncounted social media accounts providing supposedly candid video of the ongoing firefight from Bartalotti’s office to the extraction point.  All the local residents had been a no show during that long night, yet somehow audio and video holos were all over the world wide net, showing Blackwatch doing what it did best.  Killing and destroying property. The holos at least had not been able to get clear, recognizable identification of the individual team members. There were a few up close zooms of her own face, and she silently thanked Genji again for the face cloth that kept her identity hidden.  The last thing needed was for a well known ballerina, the wife of a high placed Overwatch official, to be shown as part of an Overwatch black ops team.  

Talon had no doubt set up Rialto to be a trap for whoever was sent after Bartalotti.  The team hadn’t had any Overwatch insignia or identifying tags on them, but that was the organization name that was on everyone’s lips.  International government agencies were clamoring for access to Overwatch for in depth investigation. Public protests were being fed with stories of outlaw Overwatch agents, conspiracies and cover-ups of the worst kinds of crimes and excessive, dark and deviant deeds.  All in all, it had become a kicked over hornets’ nest of chaos and confusion. Photos of Bartalotti’s dead body had been leaked, holos of his weeping widow made international headlines.  _ Wife mourns the brutal slaying of international entrepreneur and philanthropist, Antonio Bartalotti... _

Gerard had stared coldly at her during the debrief sessions.  His shock at her kill count in his arctic glare and the tightness around his lips.  This was not the sweet, sheltered, innocent wife he’d known. His oh so delicate and beautiful ballerina.  Had he really known her at all? This faithless whore? This Blackwatch  _ killer!? _   Oh, he had known, intellectually, that she was a Blackwatch agent.  He’d seen the paperwork. Somehow he had thought it was all a joke. That this was some way of hers to spite him, because of their dissolving marriage.  Now he couldn’t ignore that her hands were wet with the blood of uncounted Talon operatives. The woman who had shot down an incapacitated Bartalotti in cold blood.  In an instant she’d gone from a prized social asset to a liability of incalculable weight.  

Amelie didn’t doubt that the divorce papers would now be rushed through, no longer awaiting the church’s annulment decree.  She would bet dear coin that Gerard would soon be seen parading socially elite beauties at high profile events, the better to distance himself from a woman who might damage his social and professional standing.  It would be the tactically correct move. Gerard had spared her no illusion of his love. As head of anti-Talon operations, he had made his official condemnation of her actions clear with precise and cutting declarations.  He had waxed on his personal and professional dissatisfaction, all recorded now for the Overwatch archives. She had not really expected anything better, but that didn’t dull the knife’s edge that twisted in her heart. If Talon took her now, as a way to get to Gerard, the joke would be fully upon them.  Gerard Lacroix would not let her anywhere near him with a weapon. He would be instantly suspicious of her presence in any context. She should laugh at the utter irony.

Amelie didn’t have the energy for even a smile.  Once she made it to her bed she planned to sleep for a week.  So she wasn’t overjoyed to see Jesse McCree sprawled on the team’s communal, living room area couch.  Cowboy hat ever present, he was stripped down to his boxer shorts, half a cigar idling in the personal air purifying cone that Commander Reyes demanded McCree use.  A glass of whiskey tilted and he finished it in a single swallow.

“Well if it isn’t the princess.  They finally let you out? I owe Genji a hundred credits, I guess.  I was betting you’d see some brig time.” His voice was a down home, American drawl, his eyes were narrow with the heat of a grudge.

“Why are you mad at me, Jesse?  I wouldn’t have thought you were such a fan of Bartalotti.” Amelie wouldn’t have bothered, but the cowboy was between her and her room.

“Hey, the bastard got what was coming to him, I’ll admit that.” McCree slapped the glass in his hand down on the coffee table, beside the empty bottle of Maker’s Mark, and stood up, hardly swaying, using his six foot plus height to glare down at Amelie’s challenging stare, “But you, little lady, shot him while he was down and out cold.  Something about that just doesn’t sit right with me.”

“Do not take that tone with me, Jesse McCree.” Amelie hissed, her frayed temper snapping like a dry twig.  

How dare this shaggy, back country, gangbanger presume to judge her?  She’d seen him shoot scores of Talon soldiers, as much from behind as coming right at them.  That self righteous hypocrisy! The Overwatch senior officers had reeked of it all through their browbeating of her.  Endless hours of it, that Overwatch agents were too good and pure to have assassinated Bartalotti. Even knowing that he had been key to the bombings in Oslo, they were simply going to wait to try to draw him out by choking off his sources of income.  How clever of them, as if doing so was as simple as turning the knob of a kitchen faucet. Bartalotti had both assassins and accountants, and he wasn’t afraid to make the first strikes. While Overwatch toiled at attempting to stop Bartalotti by the book, he in turn was simply killing them off, base by base.  Bartalotti had been brutal and obvious. He had also been winning, right up until the moment a bullet pierced his skull.

“That Peacekeeper revolver of yours doesn’t shoot kisses.” she sneered and pressed forward, bumping Jesse back a step, “Does it matter if your target’s eyes are open or closed when you put steel between them?  Dead is dead. All these games we’ve been playing, you and I? They are practice to murder, McCree. When Ana Amari dragged me into Blackwatch, it wasn’t for my skills as a ballerina.”

“You just leave Ana out of this.” McCree growled, bumping her back, “Or I’ll show you what disrespecting your betters will get you!  

He knew he was being a bit of a bully, but he felt a little mean.  The rest of the team had been debriefed to the edge of endurance, and then past.  But everyone had gotten their leave to go hours ago, except Amelie LaCroix. Served her right for making their tidy extraction into a free for all mess of an assassination.  If they could have just left Bartalotti alive…

Jesse was normally a good natured drunk, but he wasn’t feeling normal.  Part of it was a sense of guilt that he just couldn’t shake. Before the mission, Ana had pulled him aside and asked him to keep an eye on the rookie.   He’d thought she meant to watch out for the pretty little filly. Make sure she didn’t wobble on those long coltish legs of hers. He hadn’t thought Ana might mean to keep an eye on the black haired sniper because she was… She was exactly what they’d been training her to be.  A killer. Just like everyone else on the team. It really hadn’t sunk in till after Fio hauled their munition peppered tails out of Venice. 

They’d just been having so much fun, training together.  Getting to spend so much time with Ana while she trained the newbie… I had been nice.  Real nice. Some how he’d been thinking their first real mission together would be something a sight more savory.  He’d show Amelie the ropes and she’d be like Fareeha had been, back when Ana was training him up for Commander Reyes.  He’d sorta been hoping she would be like a new little sister. The little pleased sigh Amelie made when she put that bullet into Bartalotti’s out cold frame had crushed that daydream for him, right quick.  Now, he didn’t know what to think about her. He’d kenned from the first that there was something between her and Moira.  

That wouldn’t bother him so much, except that Moira bothered him so much.  It was an open secret through the base Amelie Lacroix was separated from her husband Gerard Lacroix.  Jesse had a feeling Amelie had been sharing more than wine and sympathy with the team doc. Moira had gone over each of them on the flight back.  Much as he hated to admit it, the red haired doctor knew her job. As much damage as they all took, they didn’t have any major injuries and everything was healing fine thanks to the nanite tanks that Angela had helped with.  They might not even have scars. Visible ones at least.  

Jesse bumped Amelie back again, and burped.  The whiskey was strong on his breath, and he could feel his brain going just a tiddly bit stupid.  Pretty as she was, Amelie wasn’t his type. But if he scared her a little… Made her uncomfortable.  Maybe she’d do them all a favor and leave the team. Out of sight was out of mind. Hell, it worked with Ashe.  Mostly. Another little sister he’d failed. Was that why Amelie was getting to him this way? That she was turning out like Ashe?  Not as smart mouthed or as bossy. But… yeah, now that he recognized it. They both looked so fragile and pretty, but underneath that was pure rattlesnake.  Rattlesnake… there was only one way to deal with a rattlesnake.

Jesse realized suddenly that he’d pressed Amelie up against the wall, and she was glaring at him, fit to be tied.  Jesse didn’t really want to do it. He would rather kiss Genji, and the ninja didn’t do much for him either. But it chased Amelie Lacroix off the team…  Jesse leaned down and his lips mashed against hers.  

She tasted like vanilla flavored chapstick, and copper pennies, as she bit down on his lower lip hard enough to make him bleed.  Jesse didn’t get to savor the taste of her though, as a steel grip on his shoulder ripped him back and a low growl rumbled in his ear, making the short hairs on his body stand straight up.  

“Get out of here McCree.  I don’t want to see you again till you’re stone cold sober.  Then you and I will  _ discuss _ your behavior, comprende?” Gabriel’s barked order lit a fire under Jesse, and he took the out given.  Stumbling away from his hard faced Commander, and the furious looking Amelie, Jesse left without a word.  As the main entrance to their quarters hissed closed, McCree suddenly remembered why he didn’t empty bottles of whiskey anymore.  Oh yeah, he did stupid things . Dammit. A shudder ran through him as he recognized the look in Reyes eyes. It was enough to sober him up.  Jesse was just glad he was on this side of the door, than on the side with his Commander.  

 

To be continued.

  
  
  
  
  
  



	40. Chapter 40

Tipping the Hourglass 40

 

Gabriel Reyes wasn’t sure what to think.  Catching Jesse screwing up like this wasn’t what he’d been expecting.  One look at Amelie and he knew she hadn’t been a willing participant in whatever stupid plan McCree had exploding in his face.  The empty whiskey bottle on the coffee table spoke volumes. McCree lost IQ points in an inverse ratio of the amount of whiskey he drank.  He had probably been doing something dumb like trying to scare Amelie off the team. As if everyone on the team, and no few people off the team, didn’t know that Jesse McCree liked them a mite older and darker, and usually more male than female.  

Jesse had developed the hardest crush on Gabriel when first pulled out of the Deadlocks and press ganged into Overwatch.  Well, he’d gotten over that real quick once he’d had a few months exposure to the Commander Reyes sunny personality. He’d found out, once Blackwatch was being formed, what an unsympathetic hard ass the man was on the job.  Then he’d learned how off the job, what a no holds barred, grade A jerk Gabriel could be. The crush was replaced with grudging respect, and Jesse became the older, delinquent son Gabriel had never wanted.

Seeing McCree manhandling Amelie had still made Gabriel want to break his face.  Her lips were now puffy from the forced kiss, and there was a smear of Jesse’s blood on that too pale skin of hers.  Gabriel reached for the brown paper bags he’d dropped while pulling McCree off of the dark haired sniper. The smell of still hot, greasy fast food, fries and burgers, filled the room as he opened them up and set the contents on the coffee table.  He’d picked it up at the commissary, knowing that no one on the team had been given a food break through the remains of the night and the longer morning hours into midday.  

Amelie was the only one restricted to quarters, the others were confined to base except for Genji, who had already been sent out on a Japan mission that needed his special touch.  Moira had been the first to be released, had already left with Angela. The blonde Chief Medical Officer had come in hot when she’d found out her red haired lover had been on the black ops mission that was splashed all over the world wide news.  But after reviewing what had gone down, Angela had held Moira tight, muttering curses and endearments in equal measure. The looks she’d given Gabriel, however, could have stripped paint.  

So, for the time being, Amelie and Gabriel had the team’s shared living quarters all to themselves.  Gabriel already knew what he had to do, and he nodded to the food, inviting Amelie to grab some grub.   Even exhausted as they both were, the smell of food hit like a blow to the gut. Gabriel’s iron will kept him from simply wading in and stuffing his face.  He waited for Amelie to reach out and snatch a carton of spicy fried potato wedges. Gabriel pushed a chocolate malted shake toward her and one of the thick paper straws.  He remembered as a kid using plastic ones, and how thin and light they’d been. It had been a different time. Back before the world wide ban on plastics for public, commercial food consumption.  After the first bite, Amelie was greedily stuffing fried potato wedges into her mouth, taking the occasional gulp of the cold, creamy sweet shake. She nearly choked on the fries when she heard Gabriel’s apology.  

“I’m sorry for pushing you away.”

“ _ Quoi?”  _

Amelie wasn’t sure she was hearing correctly.  The Reaper she had known rarely if ever, apologized.  She doubted that Gabriel of the here and now was much different.

“I was thinking that being with you was betraying Gerard.  Him being hurt, I felt like I was stabbing him in the back for lusting after his woman.”

“You were lusting for me?” Amelie spoke hesitantly, not sure how she felt.  

Gabriel’s rejection had… hurt.  She had felt pain more deeply than she wanted to acknowledge.  She was wary of Gabriel’s intentions. Why was he apologizing now?  What did he want?

“After my debrief, Jack and Ana let me observe Gerard’s sessions with you.” Gabriel spoke slowly, toying with the wrapper of the double meat burger he’d picked up. “I… I hadn’t realized your marriage had gone so cold.”

Amelie gave a shrug and looked away as she continued to eat her fries.  She didn’t need Gabriel’s pity.  

“If it’s any consolation, I got pretty much the same drill from Jack, Ana, and Gerard.  As Overwatch Senior Commander, Jack’s disavowed any knowledge of the Rialto mission. I’ve accepted responsibility for going in without orders.  The official story is we were going in for reconnaissance, and things got complicated. Bartalotti was killed in accidental crossfire with Talon troops.  We’ll spin it as a clumsy rookie mistake, and you are going to get a strict probationary status for the time being. We’ll keep you restricted to quarters for a while, then restriction to base.  We’re gonna put you on non-judicial punishment. You’ll probably end up with scut assignments, menial work, picking up the slack in whatever department needs untrained labor.”  

Amelie looked at Gabriel in disbelief.  It was both better and worse than she’d expected.  It was better than the brig, as Jesse had pointed out, but it placed her in a limbo that left her without a clear objective.  If Overwatch had dismissed her, which had been likely, she could have found a way to Talon. Maximillien and Akande would be climbing up the ladder of power even now.  She knew she could have worked her way into their good graces. She had felt their interest in her. To her own surprise she found herself equally intrigued in return. The desires of her unmodified flesh were…  strong. As if the physical and mental repression Talon had forced on her, in the other life she remembered, had created a deep, untapped reservoir of pent up need. Need for both physical and emotional connection to others.  Need to satisfy hungers that seemed to burn in her blood like unrelenting fever. She clung to the reasoning that, if she could sate those desires, she could control them.

“And this thing between us?  The lust you spoke of?” She had not forgotten Gabriel’s admission amid all the other information being laid upon her.  The fever that had banked and retreated to a bare smoulder licked through her, embers dancing motes waiting to flare once more.

“I was wrong to be so… violent in rejecting you.” Reyes looked into her pale brown gaze and hardened his resolve, “But we can’t be together that way any more.  You are under my command now. It was wrong before, for a lot of reasons, but now that you officially are on my team… It would be fraternization.”

Amelie almost choked again.  Fraternization? This was the excuse Reyes would use as a shield against the feeling… the fire that burned between them?  In Talon at least there was none of this nonsense. In Talon, if you wanted something, someone… you took what you had the power to take.  

“It’s not that simple, Gabriel Reyes, and you know that.” She challenged him.

“It is that simple, rookie.” Gabriel growled, and stuffed his mouth with his burger, glaring at the woman looking at him with narrowed eyes.

“No fraternization?   _ Vraiment _ ?  Those are la  _ règles,  _ the rules?”  Amelie asked, archly, reaching for one of the remaining burgers.

“That’s right.” Gabriel Reyes’s voice was hard certainty.

“Commander Reyes, if I remember correctly, Blackwatch doesn’t play by the rules.” Amelie spoke with an almost feline satisfaction, before turning her attention to her food.  

Gabriel Reyes wanted her.  The warmth of that knowledge fed her with as much satisfaction as the juicy meat and melted cheese that she now gave herself the luxury of devouring.  Pleased sounds escaping her as she fed one hunger. She wanted Gabriel Reyes. In true Talon fashion, she would take what she wanted. Despite what Overwatch might demand, or what Reyes might try to ignore, Amelie Lacroix had her goals and focus back in order.  When the time was right. She could be patient, and careful when it suited her. She would remain here for now, gain what she could that would allow her to triumph in this new future.  

 

To be continued.  


End file.
